Infamous games
by The Awesome Novice Writer
Summary: The Hunger Games are famous. But some go beyond famous. There are games that shocked all of Panem and became infamous. Rated T
1. Files

Infamous game files

Rebellion: The games are introduced and none of the tributes want to fight each other.

Blood: The shortest game in history and why they call the bloodbath the bloodbath.

Alone: The non-careers face off against the careers before the worst happens for them.

Clean: How do you stay clean in the world's bloodiest game?

Torture: The careers are all sadists who just want to have some fun.

Inferno: You have no one to blame except him for making you the laughing stock of Panem.

Revenge: The first quarter quell.

Cannibal: There are no rules...right?

Control: There is only one master you serve: The Capital.

Reverse: The second quarter quell.

Teeth: The only weapon you need is yourself.

Frozen: The worst game in history.

Two: {In progress}

Again: {In progress}


	2. Rebellion

**The first Hunger Games.**

**Code name: Rebellion**

**Audience satisfaction: Moderate **

**Classification level: President's eyes only**

The rebellion failed. District Thirteen got destroyed. The Dark Days ended. The Capital took back control from the remaining districts before introducing The Hunger Games as a punishment for them rebelling against them.

They picked out the twenty four tributes for the first ever Hunger Games in history nearly a year later. The Capital took two kids from each of the twelve districts around Panem, one male, and one female, each of them between the ages of twelve to eighteen. Those kids were chosen to fight to the death on live T.V in front of all of Panem. The rules were simple, twenty four tributes go in, one comes out alive.

The kids that were reaped said their last goodbyes before taking a train ride to the Capital, where they'd prepare for the games.

When they arrived at the Capital, they were sent to the training center to train with weapons of war. The kids from Districts One, Two, and Four knew how to use weapons expertly, some others knew how to use some weapons to some extent, but mostly not to their level.

All the kids, still friends, talked to each other, laughed with each other, trained with each other and didn't even care that they were all in this together, they liked being with each other. They encouraged each other in training, showed them their moves, they had fun together.

The Capital watched in annoyance as their entertainment didn't take their roles seriously. They acted like it was a joke, the tributes didn't see how serious the games were, that really pissed off the Capital with their happy go lucky attitudes.

The tributes joined tables and ate with each other during their breaks. They talked. They laughed. They joked. They enjoyed the food. They were being friends, not enemies.

When the private sessions came, most of them thought of it as a contest, not a serious contest though, a fun one. The gamemakers saw them show off their skills with happy faces and laughter as they threw spears into targets or swung swords at combat dummies. The tributes from Districts One, Two, and Four did the best, but none of them even took it seriously. They thought of it as a classroom, they were the teachers, the other districts were their students.

When the private sessions were over, the Capital showed them their scores. The Capital explained that they were ranked from the numbers one to twelve. The trained districts got sevens and eights, the rest got an average of five. Again, the tributes didn't see how serious it was. They congratulated each other and asked what they did, like they didn't know the meaning of private. They explained the rights and wrongs of what they did and how they could improve on their skills. The non-trained tributes asked questions, the trained ones answered. Explained. Demonstrated to them. They acted like it was one big joke.

Same with the interviews, most of them just goofed off. They made funny faces and tried to make each other laugh, even after the Capital threatened to give them hell in the arena. They weren't scared though, none of them showed that they were the slightest bit scared. They continued to tell stories about each other, about the rebellion, about how they were so close to gaining freedom, and how next time, they'd win.

The day came where they were going to be launched into the arena, and none of them were scared.

The Capital explained that they had to wait sixty seconds before going off the launch pads, otherwise they'd blow up.

They were then pushed up into the arena. When they arrived in the arena, a large grassy plain that would spread for miles on end, they waited for the countdown to finish. They heard the gong, then just simply walked off the platforms and went to the golden horn in front of them. They laughed at the Capital, they laughed at the games, they laughed and joked about the situation they were in.

"Oh man," a short boy from District Ten said rather loudly in a mocking voice "are we supposed to kill each other?"

"I don't know," the blond haired District Four female responded in an equally mocking tone "is that what these weapons are for?"

The tributes then picked up some random weapons before swinging them around. The districts not from One, Two, or Four swung them around with ungracefully while the trained districts swung their random weapons around like experts. They didn't attack each other, they just swung their weapons around for show.

"I'll kill you!" A dark skinned boy from District Two shouted before he quickly raised his sword high above his head and slowly lowering his sword in front of the black haired District Twelve girl who raised her swear up in defense. The sword could have easily cut through the wooden spear, but the boy just tapped the spear lightly before shouting "clang!" Every tribute laughed at that. They were play fighting. They weren't going to kill each other. They all knew each other. They were all friends.

The gamemakers expected this to happen though, so they released a single trakerjacker into the arena. Unnoticed, the trackerjacker made it's way towards a random tribute, before setting itself on his back, and stinging him.

The District Nine boy had been stung. It's job was done. The gamemakers called it back, and it obeyed. As the trackerjacker left the arena, the boy it had stung started to feel the potent venom take effect within his body.

The boy started to see the environment start to change in front of him. The boy saw the ground catch on fire before seeing area turn dark red. He started to freak out. He was scared. Seconds later, his friends in front of him disappeared, and turned into fire bodied demons.

The scared District Nine boy, armed with a seven inch combat knife, lunged at the nearest demon, and stabbed it in the throat.

Around him, the other tributes saw him lunge at one of their friends, the District Three boy, who was only fourteen years old. The youngest one of them.

District Nine pulled the blade out of his friend's throat before lunging at another friend, the District One boy.

District One, only wanting to protect himself, lifted up his spear in defense, only for his crazy friend to run into.

Spearing himself in the stomach, District Nine lost his strength. He let go of the knife and let it drop to the ground before slowly dying. His friends watched as he, and District Three died.

District Three died first. He drowned in his own blood as he died a quick, but painful death. District Nine wasn't so lucky, he died painfully, and slowly. With his friends watching in horror.

They didn't know what to think, one second they were all having fun mocking the Capital and their games, the next second, Nine was attacking them.

When Nine died, they all looked at each other wondering what was going to happen next.

All of a sudden, a knife sank into the District One boy's stomach. The District Nine girl had plunged the knife into his stomach to avenge her district partner. She was full of rage as she repeatedly stabbed him over and over again.

They killed the District Nine girl, who in turn had kill the District One boy, who had accidentally killed the District Nine boy, who had killed the District Three boy.

Soon, everyone was out for revenge. They wanted to avenge their fallen friends. The remaining tributes fought each other out of revenge. They soon became blinded by rage and revenge.

The Capital laughed at how easily they had turned them on each other. A single sting, that was all it took for them to start acting savage.

In the arena, friend turned on friend. Friends became enemies. They were all fueled by revenge. They didn't stop fighting, till only one was left standing.

Friends speared, slashed, beheaded, bludgeoned, and all out killed each other in bloody fights where all they could see was red.

The beautiful District One girl was the one left standing in the arena when it all was over. Her bloody sword still clutched in her bloody hands. The girl breathed in and out heavily as she took in the scene, and she quickly became horrified with what she saw.

All around her, she was surrounded by the dead bodies of her friends. Spears in stomachs, severed heads, bloody weapons. A trident stuck in the face of her District Eleven girlfriend. And what shocked her the most, was that her sword, her blood sword that was in her bloody hands, was in the chest of her District Five friend. His face a mask of anger as his cold dead hands still gripped his bloody spiked mace.

The grass around the cornucopia was a field of blood, guts, and bloody weapons. It showed the full carnage of twenty three deaths.

"I give you the winner of the very first Hunger Games!" The game announcer boomed over speakers that seemed to come from everywhere at once "Silver Star of District One!"

Silver looked at her hands, her bloody hands that had killed four of her friends, the weapon she had killed them with still in her grip. Silver let go of her weapon and continued to stare at her hands until her vision became blurred with tears.

Her sword hit the ground in front of her. Silver then looked up at the sky, and let out a shout of pure anger directed towards both the Capital, and herself.

Winner: Eighteen year old Silver Star of District One.


	3. Blood

**The birth of the bloodbath**

**Code name: Blood**

**Audience satisfaction: Low **

**Classification level: All eyes welcome**

The new batch of tributes were reaped, and all of them wanted some sort of revenge for their fall brothers, sisters, and friends. They were all scared to some extent, but they swallowed their fear in exchange for anger.

The tributes rode the train to the Capital while making plans on how to murder their fellow tributes in the most horrible ways. They wanted to spill the blood of tributes not from their district.

When they got to the Capital, the tributes all ignored the Capital citizens waving at them and only focused on the other tributes. They didn't care about the Capital, the Capital may have brought them into the games against their will, but every tribute was glad that they were fighting to the death. All in the name of vengeance.

The chariot rides came, and no matter what they were dressed as or how far away they were from each other or how much the Capital didn't like it, they acted hostile to all the tributes that weren't from their district. Before they even boarded the chariots, the tributes were shouted threats at each other. They walked over to them and threatened to end their lives before the games even started. A few blows were exchanged before groups of peacekeepers pried them apart and forced them into their chariots. But even that didn't stop them. During the parade, the tributes flipped each other off, they shouted threats, they swore at each other and demanded blood payment. The District Four boy was holding a trident, and he put it to use by throwing it at the District Five chariot. The trident sliced through the air before it sank into the District Five girl's chest. The girl's body fell off the chariot before it got crushed by the District Six's horses. The first death came before the games even started. That shocked the audience watching, but it fueled the tributes anger. The horses didn't seem to notice that they were stepping on a body, they just kept trotting along like nothing was happening. The District Five girl by the end of the parade, was nothing but a large bloodstain in the middle of the street. The hooves of the District Six horses left a blood trail of prints behind them.

The Capital didn't even want the tributes near each other in the training center. The tributes were full of rage, and it was all directed at each other. Capital peacekeepers kept them at a distance, and didn't allow any of them to train with real weapons.

The first day of training just consisted of the tributes glaring daggers at each other and making threatening jesters. And shouting threatening and insulting words at each other.

The second training day consisted of the tributes practicing with rubber weapons, the gamemakers didn't want anymore tributes to die pre-game time.

The tributes practiced with their rubber weapons like they were real, though they occasionally laughed at how stupid the rubber weapons were. Lunch time was the same as the last day, threats and insults. The third day was the same.

When the interviews came, all the kids could talk about was violence. Revenge. Bloodshed. And murder. They were all hyped up on those things, especially the District Five boy, who swore that he'd murder the District Four boy, even if it was the last thing that he did.

"Bring it on." The District Four boy taunted holding his hands our in a bring it on jester. The District Five male did bring it on, he ran towards the boy who killed his district partner, but was stopped by peacekeepers before he got within striking distance. The peacekeepers grabbed the District Five male. The District Four male laughed. The District Five boy struggled. The peacekeepers tasered the District Five boy. The District Five boy shouted out in pain as several thousands of volts of electricity coursed painfully through his body. The boy's body shook around uncontrollably before he fell to the ground unconscious. That act shocked the audience, but it didn't stop the other tributes from screaming blood murder.

The day of the games came, and the tributes were more then willing to go into the arena if it meant killing those that they hatted. They stylists prepared them for slaughter before leaving the tributes to their murderous thoughts.

When the tributes reached the arena, they were more then pleased to see where they were and what it contained. The arena was a graveyard, the perfect place to send their enemies. And there were weapons, weapons everywhere, all around them were weapons of every kind. Every tribute smiled with murderous glee. This couldn't be more then perfect to them.

"Ready to die?" The blond haired District Six girl shouted to no one in particular, but she didn't need to pick someone, she was shouting to all.

"Are you?" The muscular District One boy shouted to her.

"Maybe after I bash your skull in I will!"

"You fucking wish!"

Last minute insults, threats, and violent jesters were exchanged before the gong sounded, and everyone stepped off their launch pads at the same time while shouting out war cries. They sounded like an angry army of ancient soldiers running into battle.

Every tribute grabbed a weapon and began to stab, slice, and bludgeon each other to death.

The first to go down was the Young District Ten boy who foolishly attacked the District One male with a knife. The District One boy swiftly put him down with a swing of the arm. District One's sword beheaded hid District Ten enemy, but the second he had killed his nearest enemy, his second closest enemy stabbed him in the back with a machete. The machete went through his back, into his chest, pierced his heart, broke several ribs, then came out of his chest in a bloody mess. He died before he even knew what hit him.

Many more deaths occurred in the center of the graveyard. Bodies laid dead in the blood covered earth. Or on bloody tombstones. Or on other bloody bodies. It didn't matter, their were bodies everywhere. There was blood everywhere.

The Capital audience didn't even know what happened during the revenge filled fight that broadcasted to them live, everything happened too fast. One moment the tributes were running to get weapons, then the next moment, twenty one of them were dead. The final two tributes were the District Two boy and District Twelve female who's head was being repeatedly smashed into a tombstone that was getting redder by the second.

The District Two male smashed the girl's head into the top of the tombstone over, and over, and over, and over again. Blood splattered on the tombstone, on the ground, and on the boy's clothes and face in crimson rorschach patterns.

The girl's face began to break, her bones shattering, her skin tearing apart in a bloody mess. Each hit was loud. It started out loud, but it got worse as it went. The sounds became sicker, wetter, crunchier. With each hit, it became more audible, and bloodier. The District Two male didn't stop until her face was nothing but bloody mush. Until she was unrecognizable by face alone.

When the face smashing was done, the District Two male threw her body away from him. Her body landed on top of three other bodies, and the District Two male was almost shocked to see them there. He surveyed the scene of the massacre, and felt a wave of joy overtake his body. Spears in bodies, beheaded tributes, bloody bodies, and more. But he wasn't among them, he was alive. He had survived. He had won.

"I give you the winner of the fourth annual Hunger Games!" the announcer boomed through the sky in a joyful voice that was anything but joyful on the inside. He was extremely disappointed this year's games, and so was the Capital audience. They watched Twenty three tributes massacre each other in a matter of seconds. The games lasted a wimpy twenty eight seconds. Sure they wanted to see the tributes kill each other, but they were sad, angry, and disgusted that they waited a year to watch a twenty eight second massacre. They wanted a show, not a short bloodbath.

Not that Slate Telltale cared. He had lived through the massacre, and had killed two tributes along the way. He had won.

Slate Telltale looked up to the sky, and with his blood drenched face, smiled at the cameras, and gave Capital children nightmares.

But the real nightmares were in Slate's head, because past his clouded judgement of vengeance, he remembered playing with the District Twelve girl during the rebellion.

Winner: Seventeen year old Slate Telltale of District Two.


	4. Alone

**The first non-career victor**

**Code name: Alone**

**Audience satisfaction: High**

**Classification level: All eyes welcome**

Ever since the Hunger Games started, the only tributes that won the games were those from the districts of One, Two, and Four. Career districts as they were being called now. They were called career districts because the tributes there made careers out of games.

Even thought it was technically illegal to train for the games, the career districts did it anyway. It wasn't really that suspicious to the Capital. After all, before the games were even introduced to them, the citizens of those districts were already experts of war, so it came to no surprise that they could expertly use spears and swords and other weapons of war.

The non-career districts were another story. Sure some of them used weapons for their work, but the careers were training with them to kill someone, not just to cut wood or to slice wheat with, so it put the non-careers at a disadvantage in terms of fighting.

When the reaped tributes got together in the training center that year, the careers got together like they had done for the past several years. They teamed up with each other so that the best fighters were all in one group. Ever since the fifth Hunger Games, the careers all teamed up with each other and dominated the playing field with their superior skills. Together they seemed nearly invincible.

But the tributes had a plan of their own this year. They all thought of the careers teaming up with each other, if they could do it, why not them? So when they got to the training room in the Capital, all the non-careers teamed up with each other and formed what they saw was the ultimate alliance that would beat the careers.

Now the careers were out numbered three to one. Six careers verses eighteen non-careers. Sure the careers were more skilled at fighting then they were, but they had the numbers. The careers wouldn't stand a change against them. Not with so many on their side attacking the careers all at once.

The non-careers trained for the day that the careers were going to lose to one of them. They all wanted a non-career to win this year. And with their alliance, they'd make it happen. The careers were already better off then they were, so why give them the victor winnings when others needed it way more then they did?

The Capital got interested in the two alliances. The gamemakers knew that this was going to make a good show, the top dogs who win ever time verses the underdogs who haven't won anything yet. They were in for the ultimate showdown in the arena. The audience couldn't wait for the fighting to start.

The non-careers trained with their weapons of choice, getting familiar with their weapons and learning the best ways to kill someone with them. They needed to be at least sort of good if they wanted to win a fight against the careers. Even though they had the numbers, it'd be useless if they didn't know how to use a weapon.

Then the day of the game came and the audience was ready to see which alliance would win. The non-careers and careers alike were all determined to not be defeated by the other. But the careers had confidence in their skills, they thought they could take on the non-careers, even with their inferior numbers. Likewise, the non-careers had confidence in their superior numbers. Even if they didn't have the skills of their enemies, they'd make up for it in numbers.

When they got up to the arena, they saw what it was, a rocky mountain with rolling hills everywhere. The air was thin, so it made breathing harder for the tributes. They didn't care though, the real challenge was up ahead.

The tributes looked around and saw the cornucopia with the supplies spread out on the ground around it.

All the tributes knew exactly what to grab. Weapons and only weapons. They were going to finish the fight quickly. There was going to be no fooling around.

The careers knew that this was going to be a quick game, so they were going to kill the non-careers before killing each other. The non-careers had another plan though. After they kill the careers, they were going to collect the supplies from the cornucopia before running away from each other. They'd hunt each other down after the bloodbath. That was their deal.

The gong sounded before the tributes all ran towards the cornucopia and grabbed the weapons they needed before attacking each other.

Almost immediately did the plan start to crumble for the non-careers as they began to die one by one by the weapons of their enemies. Even though they had the superior numbers, they just couldn't kill any of the careers. The non-careers were hacked, slashed, bludgeoned, decapitated, speared, you name it, they were being killed in those ways. The non-careers didn't stand a chance against them.

By the time is was done, there were only six tributes left. Five careers and one non-career. The odd ones out were the District Two boy who got swarmed by five non-careers with knives, he killed one of them before getting killed by the rest of the four. The other odd one was the District Eleven male who began to run away in fear from the five careers who were still left.

As the careers gave chase, he thought of how the situation wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be the careers lying dead on the ground, not the non-careers.

The careers were laughing at him, they knew that the plan was a failure to begin with. Some of the non-careers didn't get their weapons in time, they could only use some weapons that were given at the cornucopia, the careers on the other hand could use most of the weapons that were given. So while the non-careers were looking for a specific weapon, the careers picked up a random weapon and used it. Most of the non-careers had had their backs wide open when the careers had attacked.

Now all the careers had to do was kill the last non-career. It would be easy.

The tributes kept on running until they reached a rocky hill before the District Eleven tribute started to climb up the hill. The careers followed behind him. The careers rapidly gained on the District Eleven tribute. But then something unexpected happened half way out the hill, a large boulder somehow came loose as the District Eleven boy stepped on the loose stone.

The boulder came loose from the rocky hill before it started to crash down the hill. The boulder made it's way down the hill as the careers saw it coming towards them before shouted in fright before they were crushed by the boulder, silencing their screams. They didn't even have time to turn around and run away. It was that quick.

It was after a couple of seconds of silence that Rye Sterile had discovered that he had won. He heard the laughter of the careers chasing him before their laughs turned into screams before their screams turned into nothing.

Rye looked behind him to see bodies of the five careers that had been chasing him were crushed. Their mutilated bodies were flattened on the ground surrounded by rorschach blood patterns that looked not unlike the shape of a spider.

"I now give the the winner of the Ninth annual Hunger Games!" The announcer's voice boomed excitedly through the air "Rye Sterile!" The game may have been shorter then the Capital would have liked it to be, but they were all cheering for the underdog winner.

Rye gave out a sigh of relief. He was alive. But he knew that his victory had been all dumb luck, but it still didn't change the fact that he had won. Rye was happy, a non-career had won, and now his family wouldn't have to worry about starving to death anymore.

Rye looked back to the cornucopia where all his allies had died and silently said

"Thank you, everybody." Their plan hadn't gone as they had planned, but in the end, their plan had came true.

**Winner: Seventeen year old Rye Sterile of District Eleven.**


	5. Clean

**The youngest victor**

**Code name: Clean**

**Audience satisfaction: High**

**Classification level: Capital eyes**

Even though it's uncommon, fifteen and fourteen year olds do get reaped from the reaping bowls. There would probebly be about three or four fifteen or fourteen year old tributes each year. Even rarer still were the ones that are younger then them. Thirteen year olds getting reaped were sob stories in the Capital. But what devastates them even more are the twelve year olds that get reaped.

When the Capital sees those twelve year olds get reaped, they couldn't help but feel sorry for them, because they know that they have no chance against the older kids of sixteen and over. Sure they might get lucky from rare time to rare time, but they didn't count of them getting out of the arena alive. They belived that they were as good as dead.

They felt the same way when they saw a twelve year old and a couple of thirteen year olds get reaped that year. The audience felt sorry for those kids, but at the same time, they didn't. It was just bad luck, that's what they told themselves to avoid feeling too bad for those poor little ones.

Some of the audience members wanted to sponsor the young tributes, but they didn't want to be the laughing stock of the Capital for betting on someone that was going to be killed by one of the older, stronger, and over all better tributes that were in the arena. The older ones were the one that were going to win, simple as that. The younger ones just didn't stand a chance. What was a little twelve year old going to do to an eighteen year old? Kick them in the shin? Punch them in the thigh? Even if the twelve year old did have a weapon to defend themselves with, the eighteen year old would have a weapon as well. There was no way around it, twelve year olds, thirteen year olds, fourteen year olds, they didn't stand as much of a chance as the older kids did.

There were believers in the Capital and people in the districts that hoped that their young ones would make it out alive, only to be disappointed in the end.

So even though the Capital had the power to sponsor a little child in the arena, they just didn't want to invest their money on a dead horse. They wanted to say that they sponsored a winner, not a hopeless tribute and be laughed at.

The young tributes were no different then the Capital audience, they wanted to get out of the arena and return home, but they knew that it was a lost cause. But unlike the Capital, they held on to their hope and fought to the end. Unfortunately, hope only took you so far. Panem had found that out through out the years. But neither the less, the young tributes held on to their hope and fought to the end.

The tiny tributes played the game. They walked up to the stage after their names were called. They said their goodbyes and said that they were going to come back if they played right. They got on the train to the Capital. They dressed up and went on the chariot parade. They went to the training centers and trained. They went to the interviews. Then finally, they went into the arena and hoped that they were going to make it out.

The tributes looked around the arena and saw that they were on an island that was nothing but sand. The only thing other then sand on the island was the golden horn of the cornucopia and the bounty of items surrounding it. Around the island they were standing on was an ocean that was filled with islands. Islands big and small were in the arena in various distances away from the bloodbath field.

The islands outside the bloodbath field had jungle foliage massed in the center of the islands while the outer part of it was all sand and water.

It was a good arena for those in District Four. Those careers were looking around the arena with unsurpassed glee. They were in their element. For everyone else, it seemed like it was either know how to swim or die.

The young tributes knew from watching previous games, that tributes that ran for the cornucopia would most likely die if they weren't part of the career pack. So they avoided the cornucopia entirely.

The young tributes ran away from the bloodbath and dived into the water before swimming away from the bloodbath island where all the carnage was taking place.

One of the thirteen year olds looked back halfway to the nearest island to see that the career pack was taking down everyone, or what seemed to everyone, that didn't abandon the sandy island. The young tribute turned away as she saw the District Six male get speared through the mouth by the District Two female. The young tribute was glad that he wasn't on that island right now.

The surviving tributes that had run away from the bloodbath had successfully avoided the careers's wrath. Those tributes had swam to the surrounding islands for safety and were now hiding in the jungle. The ones that ran for the cornucopia were being pursued by the careers. Those that ran from the careers were finished off by spears and tridents in their backs. Their bodies floated in the water as blood pooled around them in the water.

Blood streaked the sand as the water carried the blood across the surface by it's waves and into the ocean.

Bodies floated in the water as the other dead tributes laid in the sand with blood pouring out of their wounds.

Thirteen tributes died during the blood bath that year, and the amount of blood spilled that day seemed like more because of the stained sand and the water that spread it across the beach.

The careers then made their way across the ocean to another island to find prey to hunt. But a surprise came to the careers, it turned not that the boys from districts One and Two couldn't swim. They didn't find out just how bad they were until half way towards the nearest island. By the time the others noticed, it was too late, they had drowned. In a matter of minutes, fifteen tributes had died.

Though they lacked a couple allies, the career pack continued to swim from island to island in search of prey.

The problem that all the surviving tributes found out though, was that the islands weren't all that meets the eye. Some of the islands had food, bottled water, medicine, and weapons stored on them. While some islands had nothing on them. Or worst of all, they housed mutts. Most of the islands contained nothing, but that didn't mean that the tributes couldn't encounter the other things lurking in the islands.

The careers combed the island they were on with a fine tooth comb before moving onto the next one. Unless they contained mutts of course. If they contained mutts, they ran off the island as fast as they could before swimming to the next island. That process was repeated until they either found another tribute, or night fall came.

They had little trouble finding their first victim outside the bloodbath, the District Twelve female, was found a couple islands from the starting island. The careers killed her before moving on to the next series of islands.

The non-career tributes hid from the careers, and it was easy with the series of islands at their disposal. But as the days went on, it became harder to hide. Islands sank. Carnivores mutts began to appear in the ocean. The amount of safe places decreased every six hours with the amount of safe havens disappearing.

As the time went on, so did the number of deaths. The non-careers, running out of places to hide, eventually got found by the careers before being slaughtered.

But the non-careers fought back though, and two of them actually managed to kill a career. The District One girl, the District Four girl got killed by hostile tributes that decided to fight back.

Then the sixth day of the arena came when only five tributes were left in the arena and the gamemakers decided that it was time for the climax of the game to begin. The gamemakers sank all the islands except for the starting island where the bloodbath had taken place. The tributes were forced to retreat to that island for the final fight.

Sadly though, the District Two girl got devoured by a pack of piranha mutts as she made her way to the bloodbath island. The District Four male just making it out of the ocean with his life.

The same happened with the District Ten female. She made it out of the water, just as a trident hit her square in the chest. Blood splattered from her chest before she fell into the water to be eaten by the piranha mutts.

Now the only ones alive were the District Eight tributes, and the District Four male.

As the career was pulling a spare trident off his back, the District Eight male charged him and closed the distance between them.

The career thrust his trident at the District Eight male and struck him square in the chest as the non-career screamed in pain before lifting his feet up and drop kicked the career in the chest.

The career was caught off guard by the sudden attack. When he got kicked in the chest, the career's feet left the sand before his body flew backwards and landed into the water. The career hardly had any time to react before the carnivores fish tore through his flesh and ripped him apart piece by bloody piece as rorschach blood patterns appeared in the water. The blood patterns grew thicker and spread apart as more of the career got devoured.

Thirteen year old Carla Ribbon ran over to her district Partner in horror before she fell to her knees and looked at the trident buried in his chest. The screams of the career were ignored for several seconds before they stopped completely.

"Carla," her district partner said weakly to her "help my family." And with that being said, Thread Stellar, grabbed the trident, and pulled it into his heart before he died instantly.

"I now give you the winner of the eleventh annual Hunger Games!" The announcers' voice shouted through the arena as Carla screamed from fright. "Carla Ribbon!"

The girl that everyone underestimated. The girl that everyone thought was dead when she entered the arena. The girl that didn't kill a single tribute. Was going home.

**Winner: Thirteen year old Carla Ribbon of District Eight.**


	6. Torture

**The most sadistic game in history**

**Code name: Torture**

**Audience satisfaction: Low**

**Classification level: Head gamemaker and President's eyes only**

The Capital audience loved the Hunger Games. They loved seeing the kids survive the wilderness that surrounded them. They loved to see what the kids would do in the arena. They loved seeing the kids kill each other. They had waited all year and were excited for the games every single year. This year was no exception.

When the tributes got reaped, the Capital put bets on who would win and who would lose. How'd survive the bloodbath and who wouldn't. They were excited for the games, as they always were.

The tributes arrived at the Capital and were treated like celebrates. Some more then others. And some enjoyed it more then others. They all seemed like normal tributes. The scared non-careers and the cocky careers were nothing new.

But when the tributes meet up at the training center, the non-careers began to find that these careers were nasty pieces of work. Forget what they saw on T.V, the careers with them shouted out cruel threats, preformed threatening gestures, verbally harassed them, and most of all, physically attacked them. But the worst thing of all, the careers looked like they enjoyed doing all of it. They really scared the non-career tributes that year with their shark like smiles and wicked laughter that sent chills down their spines. The non-careers wanted to avoid them as much as possible.

The training in the Capital continued, even when the careers picked pre-game fights with the other tributes. The District One boy broke the District Nine boy's nose. The District Four girl gave a shallow cut to the District Three boy's stomach. The District Two boy smashed the District Five girl's face into a wall, and more. And the careers loved it.

The Capital audience saw the injuries of the non-career tributes when the interviews came, and were they ever shocked to see them. They didn't expect to see them so injured before the games even started. Sure there was that incident ten years ago when that District Five girl died during the chariot tour, but they didn't think anything like that was going to be repeated.

During the interviews, the audience had mixed feelings about the careers that had volunteered that year. They were all crazy, bloodthirsty psychopaths that couldn't wait to get into the arena to show the world a game that would never be forgotten.

The audience feared for the non-careers, and the non-careers feared for their lives.

When the tributes got raised up to the arena, they saw something different. The arena was an abandoned car lot with all it's features.

The District Three girl, who was right next to the District One girl, saw the career's eyes light up upon seeing the arena. The District Three girl didn't like that look, not one bit. It scared her.

When the gong went off, a mixture of tributes ran for the cornucopia, or ran away from it.

The non-careers that ran for the cornucopia tried to get in and out as fast as they could. Grab some items before making a break for it. But most of them weren't fast enough to do that.

When those non-career tributes came face to face with a career, they fully expected to die. They knew what was coming up. Some fought back before getting disarmed by their attackers.

But they didn't die. No. They didn't die by the careers. The careers disabled them before tying the non-careers up with wire before taking all their victims to the car lot garage that was near the cornucopia. It was there that the non-careers and the audience alike discovered just how bad the careers that year really were.

The non-careers and the audience, wondering why they hadn't been killed, soon found out why they had been spared when the careers started to take various equipment from the garage out for all to see.

The first horrific thing the careers did was pour gasoline all over the District Twelve boy's body before lighting a match and tossing it on his gas soaked body. When the match hit his body, fire exploded from him as he screamed out in pain.

The fire burned his body as his skin began to snap, crackle and pop, all the while, his screams were getting more intense as the liquid inside his body started to heat up. But he wasn't the only one screaming. Thought they weren't screaming in pain, the other non-careers were screaming and crying from the sight of the District Twelve boy being burned alive in front of their eyes as the strong stench of burning flesh filled the room. Even with the garage door open, the stench was still over whelming when it reached the thirty second point.

By the time sixty seconds of being burned alive occurred, the boy's body was charred black like the coal of his hometown. His screams were silenced as his brain matter reached an overload. The stench of his burning flesh had filled the room as the non-careers screamed and cried.

The careers only laughed in enjoyment at the boy's expense.

"And he got off lucky!" The District One boy announced to the career captives. "I can't wait to see what we do to the rest of you sorry bunch of bitches!"

The next couple of days were hell on earth for the career captives, the sadistic imagination of the careers seemed to have no end.

Non-careers had jumper cables attached to their breasts of they were girls, the cables were attached to their testicles of they were boys, and on the other end of those jumper cables were car batteries that electrocuted the helpless victims on the wrong side of the cables.

Another torture method was breaking pieces of glass off car windows before shoving them into the mouth of a non-career before taping their mouth shut with duct tape before punching the victim in the jaw multiple times.

Some victims experienced the same kind of treatment as the District Twelve boy, they were set ablaze with gasoline and a match before being saved by a fire extinguisher. Even though getting burned alive was painful, the fire burned victims wished that they had never been saved.

They also experienced simpler torture techniques such as getting their nails pulled free, finger chopping, wrist chopping, foot sawing, and knee breaking. All with simple tools such as pliers, machetes, hand saws, and claw hammers.

Ten victims were caught during the bloodbath. Only one had died during the first two days of the arena. The careers kept their victims alive by cauterizing their wounds with blow torches.

But despite their best efforts, some of the victims began to die. The victims died for various reasons, some bit off their own tongues, some were just tortured a little too much.

Soon the careers went out to look for new victims to torture. And they eventually found some more. One the third day of the games, they had seven dead and four victims. Two of whom had been found when out hunting that very day.

The new victims had heard the screams of the previous victims during various times of torture, but they couldn't imagine what had been going on in that auto shop. Even when they saw the bodies of the dead, they couldn't imagine what the sadistic careers had done to them, until they themselves had experienced it.

As the time went on, more tributes began to die, so the careers had to go out and find more non-career victims.

And as time went on, the careers became even more sadistic with their methods. They pulled teeth out, they broke bones, they smashed body parts, they set fire on certain parts, threw acidic products on them, they even started to rape their victims. It wasn't just the males raping the females, the females also raped the males. Not only that, there were males raping males and females raping females. Or a combination of both.

The tributes felt the pain of many items through the days. Rust removal sprayed to the face, jumper cables electrocuting them while being attached to their private areas, their private areas being set on fire, claw hammers ripping out flesh and bone, parts of their bodies being removed, being gang raped. And that was only to name a few of the things that happened.

The Capital, despite their bloodlust, couldn't bare to see those horrific acts, and after a week, the gamemakers answered their despair with the release of a dozen groups of dog mutts to kill the tortured victims and the careers so that they wouldn't torture each other.

While the careers fought off the mutts, the non-careers, that were tied up with wire, were helpless. But they didn't care, they welcomed the mutts as saviors as the mutts ripped them to shreds and freed them from the prison they were in.

The careers fought the mutts off, but one by one they fell until only one remained alive.

The mutts stopped attacking and fled from the scene when only Mason Blackheart was left standing. There was no longer any need for the mutts to be there, the Capital had their winner, despite how much they hatted him. The games needed a winner.

Mason watched the mutts flee the scene of carnage they had created, and smiled. Mason hadn't gotten as much fun as he would have liked to have gotten, but he had had fun neither the less. Torturing the tributes in various, sadistic ways, that was the reason he had volunteered to take part in the games. He didn't want to think about doing it, he wanted to do it. His dream had became a reality in the arena. And he loved every moment of it, until the mutts had came of course.

The careers had made a trues with each other in the Capital, to the non-careers in the worst ways possible, but give a merciful death to each other. Mason had had no intention of keeping that trues, except to maybe his district partner.

He was disappointed to of not had his fun with his former allies, but the past few days were the best days of his life.

"I know give you the winner of the fourteenth annual Hunger Games!" The announcer announced to the world. "Mason Blackheart!"

Mason thought of how life would be boring back home in District Two , he wouldn't have anyone to torture or kill. He thought of become a peacekeeper, at least that way he could get some action in another district.

He shouldn't have bothered thinking of his future.

Little did he know, he wasn't going to make it out of the Capital alive. He had taken part in a game so horrible that even the Capital despised it.

Mason and the careers had been right about creating a game that would never be forgotten, and they were going to pay dearly for that.

But Mason wasn't going to die alone though. Because of their acts of sadism, Mason and the rest of his allies families were all going to die a horrible deaths beside the head gamemaker who had made it all possible.

**Winner: Eighteen year old Mason Blackheart of District Two.**


	7. Inferno

**The start of an underdog district**

**Code name: Inferno**

**Audience satisfaction: Moderate**

**Classification level: Head gamemaker and President's eyes only**

Things had been tense for the gamemakers, especially the head gamemaker, ever since the fourteenth Hunger Games. The previous head gamemaker had been personally tortured by the president along side with Mason Blackheart for the terrible games that they had created. The gamemakers now feared the games just as much as the tributes did, because their lives were now on the line with the game that they were creating that year.

They managed to not mess up any games for the past several years because of that incident, and the current head gamemaker hoped that it would continue that way until he retired.

The gamemakers were tense when the new tributes got picked for the new game, they saw each and every one of them a threat to themselves ever since they saw how the careers had acted seven years ago. The veteran gamemakers, the ones that had been participating since the first Hunger Game, had seen five disasters in less then a quarter of a century, each one of them might of gotten them executed for various reasons. They were glad to still be alive, but they now knew that the time for mistakes were over.

The gamemakers watched each and every one of the new tributes like a hawk stalking it's prey, they never took their eyes off of them and never left the tributes a moment of peace. The gamemakers were so paranoid that some of the tributes feared that the gamemakers were looking for excuses to kill them early in the arena.

The gamemakers eventually relaxed a little when they found out that none of the tributes were like the careers seven years ago, or all the tributes seventeen years ago for that matter. But even so, they were still cautious. But the more they observed, all they noticed was that all the tributes were normal, just like last year, and the year before that.

They began to think that the series of disasters might have been a fluke. A very bad fluke.

Several days later the tributes were sent into the arena to kill each other. Some of them scared, some of them were trying to be brave, six of them were excited. But no matter how they felt, they were all going into the arena.

The world watched the tributes go into the arena, a dying forest that looked so brittle and dark it almost looked like something out of a story book meant to warn kids about evil monsters that lurked in the dark.

The count down began as the kids looked at their surroundings. The younger thirteen year olds seemed to the ones that were the most scared out of the group. Some of them were shaking very noticeably. One of them seemed to even be crying.

That was how scary the arena was for them. Some of them were even wondering if there were monsters in the dark forest.

When the gong sounded the only tributes that ran off their metal plates were the careers and the District Seven tributes, the rest of them had jumped up in fright from the gong.

Before the rest of them even got off their plate, the careers were already armed and charging at them, forcing most the non-careers to flee and not even get a chance to run for the cornucopia. Only a couple brave ones ran for the golden horn.

Only six were killed in the bloodbath that year. One for each career. It wasn't a big bloodbath, but it seemed to satisfy the careers and the audience for the time being.

Some of the non-careers didn't do a good job hiding in the dark, dying forest, and the arena wasn't all that big either, so when the careers searched for more victims, they easily found someone to kill.

By the time day one was done, half the tributes were dead. The careers did good work that day.

The careers were the Capital's favorite tributes, as usual. But the audience was also interested in the District Seven tributes and the alliance between the District Three girl and the District Twelve boy. They were interesting because all they seemed to do was walk around randomly, sit down, eat, go to the bathroom, then go on. But they were an alliance, and alliances were always interesting. Plus, they were very different from each other. While the girl was scared, the boy was brave. The girl was quiet, the boy was out going. While the boy never seemed to eat anything, the girl seemed to eat more then her share, not that the boy minded.

In short, one was what one would call an adventurer, and one was what you'd call a weakling nerd. Two different people working together.

Then the next day came, and the careers easily found three more victims during their search. But one of them ended up being the District Seven girl who didn't go down without a fight. And even though there was six to one, the lone attacker managed to strip half of the District One girl's face clean off her face due to a piece of bark being used as a crude shield and a stick being used as a crude sword.

The careers didn't go out searching for any more victims after that, they had an injured team mate and they didn't want to meet up with the remaining District Seven male, who had ran to the cornucopia and had grabbed a hand full of hatchets before running away into the dark woods.

But while the careers rested, the killing continued, because the gamemakers had noticed that the non-career alliance was doing something that they shouldn't have been doing.

Even though they only had a backpack that contained a couple of flashlights, food, water, and a knife, the two of them were somehow making homemade bombs out of them. Or what seemed like bombs.

The shells were made of tree bark, but the gamemakers knew that they were bombs. Wither it was made for them or for the careers didn't matter, the gamemakers had a bad feeling about it and they didn't want to take any chances.

The gamemakers sent in some blood red anaconda mutts to get rid of them.

Minutes later, the audience watched as the two tributes got strangled to death before getting eaten by the mutts.

The gamemakers relaxed at last, because there was only the careers and the district Seven boy, and none of them seemed to be a threat to them. If anything, all they'd do is put on a good show.

Day three came up before the careers started to hunt for their last victim.

The careers searched and searched, but they couldn't find him until night fall, and the fight disappointed the audience because the non-career boy was asleep, and the careers all stabbed him while he was asleep. So they were very disappointed with the climax. There was no epic, bloody battle to see.

The careers were then about to turn on each other when an explosion occurred.

The careers, confused, turned towards the sound to see a section of the forest on fire.

Then another explosion occurred. Followed by another. And another. And another. Until more then half the forest was set ablaze by the series of explosions.

The careers were, for the first time, scared in the dark, dying, dry, and now on fire, arena. The fire spread quickly, and soon, there was nowhere to run. The careers were either burned alive or crushed by a fallen tree. They didn't have enough time to die of carbon monoxide.

The gamemakers, horrified and confused by this change of events, quickly searched for the source of the problem.

Minutes later, one of them found the problem.

The gamemakers looked at one section of the arena, one section that they remembered fondly, and saw a blood drenched boy sitting down in the middle of the forest fire. He wasn't scared. In fact, he was smiling.

But it was impossible. Phoenix Arisen had died when they sent out those anaconda mutts. He got strangled. Got eaten. His cannon had fired. His location had gone dead. His vitals had completely stopped. How had it happened?

While the gamemakers were worrying for their lives, Phoenix was smiling and not worrying. He knew that he was a goner anyway.

His original plan was to lead the careers into a trap before blowing them all up or something, but when he saw the arena, he changed his mind. Why only kill the careers when you could get everyone else at the same time?

Phoenix wanted to win. But if he were to lose, he wanted his ally to win. She did all the hard things, he just came up with the plan. He knew that District Three tributes were smart, but she was amazing. Her district partner refused to join him, but she joined. And he was beyond grateful.

She had done a great job at removing the tracking devices from their flesh, fooling the gamemakers into thinking that they were dead when the snakes were crushing them.

Phoenix had pretended to play dead as he crushed his tracking device. Unfortunately, his partner wasn't so lucky.

Then after he got eaten by the snakes, he waited for about thirty seconds before cutting through the snake's body and getting out. Phoenix then decided to lie low for a bit, make sure that the gamemakers thought he was dead before giving off the grand finale.

Phoenix looked at the inferno around him, and smiled. He had always liked fires, and he had built some back home, but this was the best one he had ever created. Phoenix "Pyro" Arisen. He liked the sound of that, and it stuck with him since he was fourteen years old.

He looked at the inferno and thought of how this was going to be the last thing that he'd ever burn. And to him, it was beautiful.

But little did he know, that he'd continue to make fires, with not only his home district, but with the entire nation of Panem, even after he died.

**Winner: Eighteen year old Phoenix "Pyro" Arisen of District Twelve.**


	8. Revenge

**The first quarter quell**

**Code name: Revenge**

**Audience satisfaction: Moderate**

**Classification level: All eyes welcome**

Before the twenty fifth game even began, months before it began, the President had a special announcement for everyone, Capital and districts alike. It involved everyone.

The live broadcast was shot live as the president pulled out a card, one of many, from a small wooden box. Everyone wondered what was going on, even those in the Capital didn't know what was going on. Everyone was as shocked as the next, Capital and districts alike.

The president looked towards the cameras and announced that every twenty five years, the Hunger Games were going to have quarter quell where a deadly twist would be added to the games along with a message to remind the districts of the rebellion that they had created.

Nobody knew what to say. A quarter quell, a deadlier Hunger Games. The Capital didn't know what to say because they were excited and didn't know what to think of this new twist in the games. The districts however didn't say anything because they thought things couldn't get any worse for them, but it did.

This new twist, what would it be? That was the question on everyone's mind.

The president answered their questions by unfolding the card he had drawn from the box and read the text inside.

"As a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district shall hold an election and vote on which tributes will represent their district."

The audience let the words sink in for a moment. The Capital had mixed results, some thought that it was just going to be a normal game, because the reaping bowl usually choose at random. Others were excited because they might actually get some fighters.

The districts also had mixed results. One hand, they could get rid of those that they didn't like. On the other opposite side, those that weren't liked would have a higher change of getting reaped.

When the reapings finally did come in, there were less volunteers in the career districts, because even they wanted to get rid of a person or two. The non-career districts were their normal selves, but much happier.

The Capital saw those who had been picked, and when their profiles came up, they saw that some of them were thieves, murderers, whores, handicapped, or normal. But they all knew that all of them, except a couple of volunteers, were all hated back in their districts. They thought this was going to be an interesting game after all.

The train rides went on without a hitch, though some of the escorts were scared of some of the chosen tributes. Like the two, and only volunteers from District Two that reminded them of the sadistic careers from the fourteenth games, and the murderers from Five, Seven, and Eleven. The rest were fine.

When the tributes got to the Capital, they weren't meet with the same cheering crowd that the previous tributes had gotten years before. Almost all the tributes felt the same feeling getting off the train, they were hatted in the back home, and they were hatted in the Capital. And all because they had done some bad deeds, or were just themselves, back home. Some worse then others.

The chariots then came, but some of the tributes had half assed costumes because some of the stylists didn't want to get near some of the tributes. And some of them refused to behave, like the thief from Nine who refused to stop stealing things, even after he was caught. Or the murderers who refused to behave.

Some stylists just gave up, so some tributes were left with half finished costumes or else the costumes weren't put on right. It made the audience laugh, but it only made the tributes angrier that they were there. They were betrayed by the districts, and now they were the laughing stock of the Capital.

When training came, the murderers weren't even allowed to get out of their handcuffs, so the best thing they could do was either watch the other tributes train, shout nasty words to them, or run into them and knock them to the ground.

Needless to say, during the interviews, things didn't go well either. Some tributes had sad stories on why they were picked, like the boy from Five who couldn't talk, but most of them didn't gain any sympathy from the Capital. Not that they cared anyway.

The games came and everyone was wondering what was going to happen, there were the skilled careers, the cold blooded murderers, and the sneaky thieves. There were interesting tributes, the non-careers might even have a chance this year.

This year, the arena was a prison, the chosen tributes all looked at the arena with different reactions. Some were scared because this was some place that they didn't want to end up in. Others looked at it like they were back home, those ones were calm and almost delighted. Those jail birds looked delighted to see the prison, they knew how prisons worked, and the arena seemed to have nearly the same structure as the prison back home.

When the gong sounded, the tributes all either ran from the cornucopia or ran towards it.

Brutal fighting erupted at the cornucopia before six deaths occurred. But that wasn't enough for the District Two volunteers, so they cut down their District One and Four allies because they were seen as useless. They didn't see the use of a slut, a player, a spoiled rich girl, and a wimp that looked like he had never trained a day in his life. They didn't need them, they only needed each other. For the moment.

Ten tributes died in the bloodbath.

The prison may have been seen as a bad arena at first, but some of the tributes who were used to hiding from others soon found that the prison was a perfect spot for them. There were plenty of places to hide within the arena.

But their hiding spots soon worked against them, because the three murderers, most of whom had been in prison for over a year, knew about those hiding spots, and quickly found the hidden tributes. The hidden tributes didn't seem so smart when they were found and were trapped in their hiding spots.

They were killed without mercy.

For once, there were tributes to fear more then the careers.

The days went by as the three murderers and the District Two careers hunted down the other kids the everyone had sent in, hoping that they'd never return. But things weren't looking good for some of the districts, the murderers were on a roll. It wasn't until the third day that the District Five murderer got killed by her so called retarded partner and the District Eleven murderer got killed by the District Two duo that the districts got some of their hope back. They hoped that the District Two tributes would win this year, because they were the only ones that hadn't been picked to be sent into the games. They were the ones that weren't hatted by the entire district.

By day four, the only ones remaining were the two District Two tributes, the so called retarded boy from Five, and the crazy murdering bitch from Seven.

The District Five boy eventually ran into the career duo before meeting his end, but not before stabbing the career girl in the throat. The two tributes died at the same time.

Seconds later, the District Seven girl jumped out of a jail cell, and smashed the career boy's face in with the blunt end of her ax head.

The career boy had blood spray from his face as he fell onto his back before the murderous girl began her sadistic ritual on him.

Just like her other victims, she crushed their knees with her curb stomps before cutting their hands off with her ax to show her victims just how useless it was to fight her, they couldn't fight back if they wanted to.

Seven then got on top of the boy before she sliced off his ears.

"Hear no evil." She told him as he only groaned between his teeth.

Seven cut off his nose.

"Smell no evil."

Seven smashed his teeth out with the blunt part of her ax.

"Speak no evil." She told him.

Seven then shoved her thumbs into his eyes until they exploded into a bloody mess.

"See no evil." She told him before she sliced into the career boy's face, ending the ritual.

"Live no evil." Holly Berry told the corpse before getting off of him.

Against all odds, Holly's district had sent her into the Hunger Games to get killed, only for her to win the games and get rich and famous. She was the thing that they were supposed to get rid of, not help.

The Capital audience didn't like Holly for a different reason, they just didn't like her little ritual, that's all.

Holly may be going home in a couple days, and she knew that her district was going to hate her for it.

But what she didn't know, was that her district was going to finish what they had started.

**Winner: Eighteen year old Holly Berry of District Seven.**


	9. Cannibal

**The game that added a rule**

**Code name: Cannibal**

**Audience satisfaction: Low**

**Classification level: All eyes welcome**

The first quarter quell wasn't a failure, but it definitely wasn't a success either. The Capital audience expected more from the quell, after all, it was said to of been an the top version of the regular Hunger Games. In the end, they were disappointed.

Some thought that because it was a first in a long line of quells it wouldn't be the best one. Still, they were disappointed neither the less.

Now they were back to the regular Hunger Games for another twenty four years, and even though the first quarter quell wasn't a great game, they were excited for the next one to come.

With the normal games back on track, the careers were back to volunteering for the games. The Capital was pleased about that.

Twenty four new tributes were picked from the classic reaping bowl with six volunteers. Everything was back to normal, and in a way, it was dull compared to last year's game. Everything was just, so, normal.

The tributes rode to the Capital, the tributes got off at the Capital, the tributes trained in the Capital, the tributes got their interviews, then the tributes were sent into the arena. Just like every year.

The tributes reached the arena, to see that they were in a sea of gold and orange. The tributes from Districts Nine and Eleven recognized the nearly four foot high plants that surrounded then in every direction. They were in a sea of wheat. The tributes saw the, almost camouflaged, golden horn in front of them. The items were hidden the grain however, so it was going to be tough to get easy kills.

The tributes looked around to see that the ocean of wheat wasn't the only part of the arena, in various parts of the arena, there were rocky hills with snow caps at the top. They weren't the size of mountains, but they were very large hills. They were probably placed there so that someone with a good eye could scope out the place and see where the others were hidden. The snow so that the gamemakers could flush out tributes that were hiding for too long.

When the gong sounded, the tributes ran in all directions. Some ran towards the cornucopia, some ran away from it. But some had different strategies then just ran. Some dived into the wheat to hide themselves and maybe find supplies easier. Or just dive and run. It was a good plan, but it made them slightly slower, and they couldn't exactly see where they were going.

The careers rushed for the golden horn knowing that the best items were the closest to it. Other tributes took their chances further away, preferring to stay away from the careers.

The bloodbath didn't start right away, like it did in the previous years, because it took some time for the tributes to find any sort of supplies. But the bloodbath came. It was delayed, but not stopped.

The careers found some weapons, some not their first choice of weapons, before running towards other tributes and killing them.

Some of the non-careers decided to give up searching for supplies too late before they got cut down by the careers who had already found something to use.

Blood flew onto the grain as tributes got hacked and slashed and bashed to death.

Some non-careers tried to hide, but they were found by the careers because of the path of broken wheat that they had created.

When the bloodbath was done, nine tributes had died. Most of then never even touched a weapon or got a hold of any supplies to help them.

The careers didn't spend the day going after the non-careers. Instead, they cleared out all the grain around the cornucopia so that they could get all the supplies they could along with their first choice of weapons. They also didn't want anyone to use the grain as camouflage to sneak up on them.

All the non-careers wondered if the grain was edible. All but the tributes from Nine and Eleven knew that it wasn't edible. But they all assumed that you couldn't eat the grain when the cannon fired a couple hours later.

Night came, and the non-careers were hungry, but it was nothing different then being back home, because back home, they were always hungry.

The next day, the careers started following trails of broken wheat to find tributes. It sounded easy, after all, they had done it back at the cornucopia. But it turned out to be harder then they thought. The careers lost the trail of broken wheat, they got lost in the trail of wheat, and they seemed to go around in circles. By nightfall they hadn't killed anyone.

Day three came when the careers tried again. They followed trails, but also wondered around aimlessly, until the found someone. They found the District Twelve female trying to hide from them in the sea of gold and orange before they added some stripes of red to go along with the sun like colours.

it was short lived, but it boasted the careers moral, it told them that they could find other tributes, even in this maze of wheat.

Day four came, and the careers weren't the only ones hunting now, the non-careers were hunting the other non-careers. Though they had been doing that before, they were now doing it more intensely. The non-careers hadn't eaten for three days, and they wanted to get out of the arena as soon as possible.

One of the non-careers, the District Eight boy, foolishly tried to sneak into the career camp during the third night, but was caught before getting his throat slashed.

By the fourth afternoon, all the tributes were getting lost in the wheat field.

But late in the afternoon, two tributes meet each other, the District Seven girl, and the District Six boy.

The two of them appeared in front of each other before starring into each other's eyes for a couple seconds. Then before they knew it, they were fighting each other in vicious hand to hand combat. The fight seemed to last an hour to the two tributes, but in reality, the fight only lasted ten seconds before the District Six male bit into the District Seven girl's left eye.

The girl screamed as her eye got ripped out along with some of her flesh. Blood sprayed everywhere from her eye socket. The District Six boy only had the look of enjoyment on his face as he crushed the eyeball inside his mouth before chewing it a little before finally swallowing it.

The girl continued to scream. The boy then shoved two of his fingers into the girl's eye socket before ripping a piece of her brain out, killing her instantly.

The boy looked at the dark pink brain matter before licking it off his fingers. The boy hungrily looked at his victim before he started to attack her chest. He ripped her skin apart before eating it. He got to her ribs before feasting on the meat stuck to the long, thin bones, then lastly, he ripped out her bloody heart.

"Live inside me girl," the boy said as he stoor at the heart "and give me your strength." The boy then bit into the heart and savored the taste of a human heart.

Meanwhile, the Capital audience was disgusted with the boy's act of cannibalism. Members of the audience were vomiting after seeing him swallowing the girl's eye. But even more of the audience were doing so after they saw him eating the heart. They thought he was insane.

The district audience thought differently though, they thought that he was just doing what needed to be done to survive.

They weren't alone though, because the non-careers had the same plan as the District Six boy.

The days went by, and as more of the non-careers killed, the most they feasted on their prey. Like wild animals eating those that they had hunted, the non-careers had unleashed their primal selves. Their instinct to survive was second to none.

But not all of them could feast on their prey, because some of them attacked the careers in blind hunger. And while some of them killed a career, they also meet their end.

But while most of the non-careers only ate the arms and legs, the District Six boy ate everything. Eyes, lungs, livers, kidneys, hearts, brains, it was all food to him.

"Live inside me, and give me your strength." The boy said before he ate a heart.

"Live inside me, and give me your knowledge." He said before he ate someone's brains.

It was like he was talking to their spirit.

Eventually, the gamemakers had to ask the president to pass an unspoken law to the games because the Capital audience was so disgusted by the cannibalism. The president agreed. His words said that you could cannibalize other tributes, but you couldn't eat their hearts or brains.

The next opportunity they got, the gamemakers got rid of the infamous cannibal in an avalanche when he was going up one of the hills searching for prey.

The district audience knew that the Capital had purposely made the avalanche happen to rid the boy known at Titus.

By the tenth day, the only ones remaining were the District One girl, the District Two boy, and the District Four girl. Everyone else had either been killed by the careers, or by the insane non-careers.

The fighting broke out before blood spread upon the sea of gold.

The District Two boy stabbed the District One girl with his sword, who in turn got speared through the heart by the District Four girl.

The two careers fell to the ground before the announcer boomed through the arena

"I now give you, the winner of the twenty sixth annual Hunger Games! Stream Glory!"

Stream felt proud of herself. She had won after all.

Stream got flown back to the Capital and recovered from her wounds.

When she awoke the next day, all she could hear about was how the Capital was in an uproar about a boy named Titus and the other cannibal acts of the non-careers.

Stream couldn't see what the big deal was.

**Winner: Sixteen year old Stream Glory of District Four.**


	10. Control

**The hunted becomes the hunter**

**Code name: Control**

**Audience satisfaction: Moderate**

**Classification level: Head gamemaker and President's eyes only**

The reaped tributes didn't know what to expect from the Capital anymore. The Capital said that there were no rules in the arena, but whenever something they didn't like appeared in the arena, they'd send the tributes doing the deed into a death trap. There were no rules in the arena, just don't do what we don't like, that's what the districts thought the Capital was saying to them.

Everything was for the Capital. Everything. The districts had no say in anything, even in the arena where all they were trying to do was survive.

You hide for too long? The Capital flushes you out of your hiding spot. You're not liked in the Capital? The Capital doesn't send you any sponsor gifts. You try to survive in an arena with no food and you're forced to cannibalize? The Capital kills you.

The Capital controlled everything, and there was nothing the districts could do about it. Even their means of survival in hell were controlled by the Capital, and the tributes couldn't do anything but submit to it.

The reapings were controlled by the Capital, they choose the kids from the reaping bowls. The exceptions were the careers who choose to go into the games on their own, but the Capital was still controlling them because even they had to have kids go into the arena.

The train ride was controlled by the Capital, it forced the tributes to go from their districts to the Capital. Forced them to leave their homes and leave everything behind unless they won.

The chariots were controlled by the Capital so that they could show off the kids in costumes. Try and make the kids noticeable in the Capital's eyes. Some kids didn't understand why they even need the chariot parade to be part of the games, but they couldn't have any say in it, because the Capital controlled what went on.

The training was controlled by the Capital because it made the tributes try and learn how to kill a tribute properly or more effectively. Three days were given to them to learn some skills.

The interviews were controlled by the Capital so that the audience could get one last look at the tributes before they entered the arena, to hopefully learn a bit more about them before they got killed. Some tributes didn't want to even say anything to the Capital because they thought that the Capital didn't deserve to know anything about them.

Then there was the games themselves. The arena, the dangers, the weapons, everything was controlled the Capital. There were no rules in the arena, but everything was still ruled by the Capital. The tributes knew that, when they were in the arena, they were going to do everything in their power to survive without pissing the Capital off.

It took a cannibal to make a new rule. It took psychopaths and crazies to make the Capital kill other tributes. It took a bored audience to kill someone. The tributes were going to try and not get any of those while they were in the arena.

The countdown started, and the tributes were wondering what they could do to beat the Capital's rule on them on surviving on any means necessary. The tributes looked around at the maze of cages that surrounded them. They looked around at the zoo of small buildings and empty cages and tried to think of how they were going to survive without getting the Capital to kill them while they battled each other. They couldn't think of anything.

The gong went off before the bloodbath began.

Some tributes, including the careers, ran for the cornucopia before they tried to collect some scattered items before the majority of them got cut down by the careers. Some of them managed to get items without getting killed by the careers, but most of them didn't make it. The rest of the tributes ran away empty handed.

Eight tributes died in the bloodbath that year.

As the careers were gathering their supplies, the non-careers found out that the arena was the most dangerous one they had ever seen. The arena they were in was so dangerous because outside of the main cornucopia area, the cages were open and empty, and something was on the loose. The tributes at first thought that it was an empty zoo, but they soon found out that it was a zoo of chaos as the mutts that had been released for their cages started to attack them on sight.

The tributes tried to run. Some of them out ran the mutts, but some of them weren't so lucky. The mutts caught some of the tributes before turning them into human chew toys.

Four more tributes died because of the mutts, giving the bloodbath a total twelve dead tributes.

For the first time, the tributes in the arena didn't worry about the other tributes as much as they worried about the mutts.

Over the course of three days, the tributes ran, hid, defended, and killed mutts. Not one tribute meet another tribute except the careers who always stayed together.

It was a different kind of Hunger Games, one that the Capital audience thought was alright, the games were bloody and the kids put up good fights against the mutts, but they hoped that they'd go back to having kids killing kids again next year. But for now, it was a good change of pace.

By day four, twenty of the tributes were dead. The only ones left was the District Two tributes, the district Four female, and the District Ten female. Not one of the non-bloodbath victims had died by another human hand.

The District Ten female only stayed alive because she kept on moving and hiding when ever she heard a noise.

The audience only saw her as a scared girl who hid from anything that moved. The audience expected her luck to run out when she ran into a building that represented a zoo keepers headquarters that was over run with mutts.

They were wrong.

The District Ten girl had found her secret weapon in the headquarters. She grabbed a bullwhip that was hanging beside one of the cages before she started to whip at the mutts and try to tame them.

The gamemakers laughed at the girl, sure she came from District Ten, but mutts weren't ordinary animals, they were Capital creations, she couldn't control them even if she was the best animal tamer in Panem.

But the gamemakers slowly stopped laughing as they saw the District Ten girl tame the mutts with her whip before she jumped on a jaguar mutt and began riding it like a horse.

Minutes later, a large group of mutts found the careers, with the District Ten girl leading the pack.

The careers were stunned, they saw a girl that they had deemed as a bloodbath, controlling the monsters that they were running away from.

The careers ran from the mutts until they reached a dead end. It was then that they turned towards the opposing force and attacked.

The careers managed to kill all the mutts, but by that time, the only ones remaining were the District Two girl, and the District Ten girl.

The District Ten girl, seeing that her opponent was almost dead on her feet, finished her off by whipping her bullwhip at her opponent. The sharp edges of the whip sliced open the District Two girl's wind pipe before she bleed to death.

As Sunny Colt looked at the carnage around her and the gamemakers were wondering what had just happened, the announcer was telling the world that Sunny had just won the thirty third Hunger Games.

The head gamemaker feared for his life because of how a fifteen year old girl had managed to turn the Capital's killing machines into her own slaves. The mutts were only meant to serve one master and one master only: the Capital.

While the gamemakers were freaking out, Sunny was feeling proud of herself. She, a nobody who everyone deemed a bloodbath had turned the tables on everyone, and won. She had used her talent of taming wild animals into a survival tactic.

But Sunny didn't know that her survival trick would only allow her to live, as her family would get killed by a pack of mutts only days after she returned home.

**Winner: Fifteen year old Sunny Colt of District Ten.**


	11. Reverse

**The second quarter quell**

**Code name: Reverse**

**Audience satisfaction: High**

**Classification level: Capital eyes only**

The second quarter quell, never has anyone been as excited or as scared as they were the day the president read out the twist for the second quarter quell to the entire world.

The Capital was excited because they were wondering what the twist was. The districts were worried for the same reason. One group welcomed the quell, the other dreaded it, but both groups knew that it was going to be like anything they had experienced before.

The card read: To remind the districts that two rebels died for every Capital citizen, the districts shall send in twice the number of tributes.

The Capital cheered at the idea of having forty eight tributes in the arena. They were ecstatic about twice the number of tributes, twice the number of deaths, twice the action, twice the fun. Never before had the Capital been so excited.

The districts on the other hand, aside from the career districts, couldn't of been more scared. The boys and girls of the non-career districts had their fear doubled at the quell announcement. The chances of them getting picked increased dramatically, if they weren't picked the first time, there was a chance that they'd be picked the next time.

The careers on the other hand took it better then their non-career neighbors. While they were kind of happy that they'd get second chances of volunteering, they were frustrated that they would have to kill forty seven other tributes to return home. Sure they had more allies, but it would prove a problem in the long run when they'd fight each other in the end. They weren't scared like their non-career neighbors, but they weren't as excited as their rulers.

The one thing that the careers and non-careers shared equally though, was that they all had friends and family that they'd be living behind. Even worse for some of them was that their friends had been reaped, or in the case of the careers, volunteered. It was a shock to them to see that they'd be in the arena with their friends.

Goodbyes were said and unfulfilled promises of returns were said before the tributes boarded their trains as they left for the Capital and take part in the biggest game in the game's short fifty year history.

In the Capital, everything lasted twice as long as there were double the tributes that needed to be worked with. Unqualified stylists and prep teams still in training needed to be hired in order for things to progress, but with the aid of the full time stylists and prep team mentors, everything went smoothly. Smoothly, but still longer then normal.

Twice the number of chariots and horses had to be used, but neither the tributes nor the Capital audience seemed to care. The tributes wanted to get the tour over with while the Capital audience just wanted to see the tributes.

Twenty four chariots, forty eight tributes, the Capital audience tried to take all of it in, but there were simply too many tributes to pay attention to. By the time Districts Ten, Eleven, and Twelve came out, the audience's heads were already hurting, trying to remember who the tributes were.

The districts didn't see it the way the Capital did, as they didn't bother to even remember who the other tributes were, cause all they could see were forty seven walking corpses in costumes.

The three training days came, and the mentors, the trainers, and even the tributes had their hands full in the crowded training center. The trainers had to work at a faster pace with more people then they were ever trained for while tributes had to work around the packed training stations. Special instructors from Districts One and Four had to be hired for the occasion. District Two instructors didn't come as they were busy with their own training purposes, and the Capital didn't want the kids beaten up too badly before the games even started.

But despite the hardships that the instructors and the mentors and even the Capital faced for the second quell, the tributes were the ones with the biggest hardships as some of their fellow tributes were their friends from their home district.

Tension built between friends as they broke under the threat of killing each other, hurting other friends, or in the case of some of the careers, volunteering with them as they saw it as a form of revenge for some unknown reason. Whatever the reasons, friends started to turn away from each other and started to act hostile towards each other.

Threats were shouted to each other and more then a few fights had occurred between former friends over past and current issues. Mentors had to treat both of the District Two boys because of their brutal feud with each other over the betrayal of friendship that left both of them in critical condition.

When the interviews rolled around, the Capital knew that the audience was going to get board with forty eight interviews that dragged on forever, so the audience got a twenty minute break every eight tributes. The interviews lasted for hours, but the audience learned a few things about the tributes they were about to watch fight to the death. Sponsors started to bet on tributes that would do or die in the bloodbath and who'd survive the games. It was difficult for sponsors to choose who to sponsor, and some choose to not take part in this year's game for that reason, there were too many good tributes to choose from.

As the games were approaching, some friends attempted to gain back their friendship with those they had fought with, wither by words or fists or just looking at each other in ways that words could never describe. Some of the tributes were lucky, such as one of the District Seven boys with his oldest friend, one of the District Seven girls, the boy, just by crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue in a hysterical pose, managed to get back together with her. Laughter helped regain their friendship. The two District Two boys that fought each other almost to death, found it in their hearts to forgive each other as they remembered their academy days together and promised to support each others families if one of them won.

Others weren't so lucky though, as their former friends pushed them away for good. The last words that some friends heard from each other were five simple words: Go die in the arena. Followed by four more words: Oh wait, you will.

The second quarter quell had killed tributes before it even began as friends killed off friendships and felt like killing themselves in the depression they were in. Some tributes, even the boys, cried themselves to sleep the night before the games.

The day of the games arrived and the Capital audience was expecting a show like no other. The tributes on the other hand were expecting the fight of their lives, as there were forty seven other competitors trying to kill them to return home. Both sides shivered for different reasons.

When the tributes arrived in the arena, the only thing they could do was stare at the scenery that was around them. All around them was a beautiful scenery of green meadows with patches of gorgeous flowers with a perfect blue sky with puffy white clouds with bright coloured songbirds flying overhead. In the north was a snowcapped mountain, and to the south was a forest, but they were miles away from the meadow that the tributes were standing in.

The arena also smelt extraordinarily good, most of the tributes couldn't help but take at least one sniff of the air around them.

There was only one thing that the tributes could describe the arena as: Perfect.

The thing about the arena was, that it's beauty was so distracting that when the gong had sounded, the only tribute that ran for the supplies was one of the District Twelve males. The rest of the tributes had been distracted by the arena's beauty.

The District Twelve male collected a large black backpack along with a single combat knife, machete, and hatchet. He had been looking at the food supplies at the center of the cornucopia bloodbath field, but he decided to withdraw as he saw one of the District One females racing towards him with a hatchet.

As the District Twelve male ran away with his choice of supplies, the other tribute came alive and either ran for the cornucopia, or fled the battle grounds.

Though most ran away, the tributes that did ran for supplies were engaged in a miniature war like no other seen in the Hunger Games. More then two dozen tributes stormed the cornucopia and began killing one another, until the non-careers fled or died while the careers died or stayed with the supplies. Two careers died, but they still had a bigger force then everyone else was used to dealing with. Sixteen non-careers died in the bloodbath.

More began to die as quickly as the game had begun as tributes found out that nearly everything in the so called garden of Eden was a lethal death trap. Forbidden fruit killed tributes who bit into it, water from streams poisoned them, and even the flowers corroded the insides of tributes if they were inhaled in large doses. The animals proved to be another large problem to the tributes as carnivorous packs of golden squirrels ripped the flesh off of tributes and candy pink humming birds poked murderous holes into the flesh of tributes. Worst of all were the bright coloured butterflies who brought agonizing pain that was so extreme that tributes either killed themselves, or asked their friends to kill them if the butterflies didn't do their job right.

The Capital audience was impressed the second quell, they were shocked with every minute of the unpredictable arena. The tributes however found it a horrifying experience, and some committed suicide before they were either too paranoid to continue living, or they knew that they weren't going to survive the arena.

Day four came along and the Capital found that the arena was too big for it's own good, so they made the snowcapped mountain erupt, making the surviving tributes, especially the careers, realize that the mountain was a volcano. Half the careers died, and the arena was cut in half.

Even though half their alliance was killed, the careers still traveled strong and killed anyone in their way, until three of them meet the District Twelve male who had been unfazed by the beautiful arena.

District Twelve had lost his hatchet due to carnivorous squirrels and had lost his machete in a thick maze of vines and had to leave it halfway through the thick mesh it got stuck in.

District Twelve took on the three careers that were bigger, stronger, and slower then he was, and killed two of them before the third one nearly cut open his throat with his own knife before the career unexpectedly fell to the ground, dead. A single poisonous dart in the back of his neck.

Behind the fallen career is another District Twelve tribute, a girl the same age as the boy she rescued.

As the boy reaches for his knife, the girl proposes an alliance. The boy agreed.

The two allies then wondered off the towards the south of the arena, the only direction that the District Twelve male had been traveling the entire time, except when he got lost or had to detour around obstacles.

Five tributes died within a matter of days, including one career, before the District Twelve allies got to the end of the arena.

Nothing was there, only a steep cliff that looked like a perfect place to commit suicide.

The two of them split up as the girl found nothing useful at the south end cliff. The boy decided to stay. No goodbyes were said.

The District Twelve male doesn't look back at her as she walked away, instead, all he did was kick a pebble over the edge of the cliff.

The pebble returned to him, and he was momently puzzled, until he dropped a fist sized rock over the edge and waited. The rock returned right to into his hand a few seconds later. The District Twelve male started to laugh, as if he had already won the Hunger Games because of his discovery.

But then a female scream erupted, sending the boy towards it as he runs as fast as he possible can towards his no longer active ally.

When he arrived at the scene, the last of the murderous candy pink birds flew away from their victim, the District Twelve female who had gotten skewered in the neck due to their beaks. The only thing the boy does is hold her hand until her death, but holding her hand was the only thing that Maysilee Donner needed to pass away peacefully.

Other tributes weren't so fortunate as the other tributes that day die alone due to being killed by the last surviving career, a large female from District One, and getting eaten alive by squirrels. Their friends already passed away, leaving them alone until death.

As soon as the last surviving tributes found each other, the District One female known as Velvet Lawless and District Twelve's Haymitch Abernathy began a brutal and bloody fight to the death. Velvet was going to do what she had wanted to do during the bloodbath, kill the kid who had made her look like a fool for being distracted by the arena.

Haymitch had expected her to be like the careers he had fought and killed before, but was surprised that Velvet was bigger, stronger, faster, and above all, better at fighting them he was. She tore open his stomach and spilled some of his guts out at the price of her left eye.

Haymitch was disarmed before he ran for the cliff with Velvet hot on his heels.

Haymitch made it to the top of the cliff before Velvet threw her hatchet at him, and missed.

Nothing happens for several seconds, and the tributes just stoor at each other, waiting for the other to die, but suddenly, Velvet's hatchet came coming back towards her at at least triple the speed she had thrown it. All Velvet had time for was to open her eyes widely and get a look of shock on her face before her hatchet buried itself into her face.

As the cannon fired, Haymitch started to chuckle laugh. But soon his chuckles turn to full blown laughter as he celebrates his victory.

The Capital audience was shocked. Not only had he used a great trick to kill his enemy, but he was also a Capital favorite, not on any of the high lists, but still one that many had been rotting for.

The gamemakers on the other hand were horrified for their lives when they saw Haymitch's trick to reverse the hatchet.

The second winner of District Twelve, had made the Capital look like fools with their own creation, just like Phoenix Arisen had before him.

Haymitch knew what he had done, he knew of Phoenix "Pyro" Arisen, and had gotten inspiration from him. Use the arena to your advantage.

Haymitch was going to go home, and he couldn't feel any prouder. He had won the games as a District Twelve tribute, during the second quarter quell, against forty seven enemies, with no mentor to guide him.

But Haymitch was going to curse the day he had won the games when everyone he cared about ran into a near invisible death trap that had been placed around their houses.

Nailed to the victim's heads were pieces of paper that read: Karma's a bitch, right?

**Winner: Sixteen year old Haymitch Abernathy of District Twelve.**

* * *

**A/N: Wow, sorry about the lack of updates on this fic, if anyone cares. I was focused on other things in the meantime and when starting this chapter, I wanted to make it as cannon as possible, and I lost my catching fire book. Anyway, I try to keep the chaps 2000 words or less, but this one I guess needed to be slightly longer. So, hope you enjoyed it.**


	12. Teeth

**The weaponless arena.**

**Code name: Teeth**

**Audience satisfaction: High**

**Classification level: All eyes welcome**

The second quarter quell had ended in secret disaster. The Capital audience had loved him many times more then his district's previous winner, and they were also pleasantly entertained with the finale. To the Capital audience, it was nothing more then a brilliant trick.

To the gamemakers, the president, and the districts, it showed that the Capital could still be fooled, and a sign that the Capital was weak. After all, a sixteen year old boy had defeated the Capital's games and had made fun of the games themselves. Much like how Phoenix and Sunny had in their games. It showed that the Capital could still be beaten, that the powerful could be beaten by an individual with determination and the know how.

The president hatted District Twelve even more after the second quarter quell, two winners had made fools of the Capital and their games, he felt rebellion brewing up as the least powerful district in Panem had made fools of them with both their victors. He now felt as if it were his duty to stop District Twelve from ever doing anything like that ever again. Even if it meant making them victor less for generations to come.

He held on to that promise with an iron fist as the years continued.

Another batch of tributes soon arrived, and instantly, he saw the two District Twelve tributes as a threat while everyone else just saw them as the underdogs of Panem.

The Capital had high expectations for them in the years following the second quell because of Haymitch and Maysilee, but they were disappointed year after year and just gave up on them. It only made the president's job easier as the years passed.

The tributes that year were average, trained careers that had many fighting and weapon skills at their disposal, while the other tributes were stuck to their hometown trade skills and tools. Not that they were useless though, District Seven had good upper body strength and were skilled with axes while District Nine and Eleven were good at farming tools and recognizing edible foods, though District Nine only specialized in grain while District Eleven had a much wider knowledge of foods.

The Capital was betting on the careers again as the chariots showed off the tributes, the training days showed their skills off, and the interviews showed how confident they were. There were some Capital citizens betting on non-careers, but not many, as there seemed to be vicious tributes from the careers, especially one District One male who towered at nearly six foot eight with a muscular build that could be seen as a calculating psychopath.

All the tributes were scared of him, even his own allies. Though they tended to now show it.

Though he never attacked the tributes outside his alliance, his cold stares and threatening gestures were all that were needed along with his looks to prove that he was a cold hearted monster that would gladly kill in less then a heartbeat.

The day of the games came, and all the tributes were scared, some very less then others. The careers were excited, but even District One's Razor Ryland was at least a little scared for his life. After all, it was a fight to the death with your life on the line.

When the tributes got to the arena, they saw an arena that looked like a form of the arena in the second quarter quell. There was a sense of paradise in the arena with the perfect setting of red rose gardens in an open field that seemed to stretch forever with clear skies that shone brightly overhead.

The arena was a very open red rose garden with the patches of rose bushes far and between each other. If anything, it was a big open field of nearly nothing.

And nothing it was.

When the tributes heard Razor curse loudly, the tributes all turned to him before Razor shouted "where's the mother fucking weapons?"

It was at that moment that the tributes looked at the cornucopia, to see that Razor was right about there being no weapons. There were still backpacks and other random supplies around the golden horn, but there were no weapons.

The fiftieth Hunger Games arena was called the garden of Eden. But if that arena was the garden of Eden, then the arena in front of the twenty four tributes was garden of Eden mark two. Sure it wasn't as visually stunning as the previous paradise, but this was more of the garden of Eden because there were no weapons. It was more peaceful then the second quarter quell because of the lack of weapons.

The tribute didn't know what to think until they suddenly heard the gong sound out. It was then that they ran either away from the supplies or towards them.

The tribute beside Razor, the District Three girl, didn't even get a chance to step off the landing plate as Razor got to her. Despite his size and muscular build, he was faster the the kids had thought he'd be.

Razor grabbed her head with both of his hands and began smashing her face into the launch plate until her forehead shattered open and her brains littered the metal plate.

Of the bloodbath tributes, she was the one that died the quickest, the other bloodbath tributes got beaten to death with hand to hand combat, but they fought back, which only delayed their deaths and gave them more pain then they would of gotten if they had just submitted to the brutal careers.

The non-career tributes that died got their faces smashed in by the careers fists, slash marks by their short nails, broken fingers, gorged out eyes, knocked out teeth, and other physical injures that came from the brutal hand to hand combat that they faced.

The careers got away with little injury, and were disappointed that they only got six kills that year, one for every career, which could be considered good as they had no weapons to kill them with.

The careers searched and searched, but there were no weapons at the cornucopia and absolutely no weapons that they could use in the entire arena as the rose bushes were only made of skinny leaves and roses that didn't even have any thorns. In fact, the rose bushes seemed to be more air then an actual part of nature.

Razor tried to crate a shank with the thin twigs, but they were so brittle that they turned to dust when he tried to sharpen them, they were useless as weapons. The rose bushes were for decoration only.

The careers searched through their supplies at the cornucopia, but found that there was nothing that some would consider weapons. There were no crates that they could rip apart and use, the backpacks were soft, and they couldn't find anything harder then a plastic bottle. They couldn't find any cocking pots or anything of the sort.

The careers found that the gamemakers had wanted to make this a brutal game of hand to hand combat, but the careers knew more about fighting then just about anyone in the Capital, and knew that some of the supplies that they had gotten still had some use.

The careers gathered up a select set of supplies before heading out in search for other victims.

With hardly any places to hide, the career quickly found a lone enemy. The problem for the careers was that their prey had spotted them in the open field just as the careers had spotted her. The District Twelve girl ran away from the careers as soon as she saw them, but unfortunately for her, the careers were faster runners then her and had more stamina.

The first career to catch her was the District Four female who effortlessly tackled her to the ground before the District One female slammed her victim's head into an open backpack, blinding the District Twelve female before the rest of the careers caught up and started to kick the blind victim.

The careers surrounded the District Twelve girl and gave her a boot party, hearing the non-career scream for mercy as she curled up into a defensive ball, until the careers decided to go from kicking to stomping.

The attack came to an end when the non-career stopped screaming and the career decided to end her live by curb stomping her head, with six individual steel toed boots.

The careers stomped on her head, all at the same time, causing her head to cave in, before they moved on to another victim.

The same thing happened, the District Nine boy saw the careers running towards him a fair distance away and ran away from them, but the careers caught up to him before they wrapped plastic wrap around his face and suffocated him to death while beating him with their fists.

By the time day one was over, six additional tributes had meet their end.

The non-careers had first thought that having no weapons in the arena would be a blessing, but they soon found out that the careers didn't need swords, spears, knives or maces to kill them. If anything, the non-careers that managed to witness the attacks found out that giving them no weapons made their lives even worse, because the careers killed them much more slower then if they just decapitated them or crushed their head. And the careers didn't need the so called weapons that would normally be used in the games, the careers made their own weapons with what they had.

The careers had killed twelve tributes with their own hands and unusual weapons such as plastic wrap and clumps of soil and were shoved down the throats of their victims. The careers made use of what they could in the arena, plus their hands and feet to do devastating damage to their enemies such as ripping eyes out and crushing their lower jaw.

The careers didn't need weapons in order to kill the other tributes, they just needed their bodies.

While the district audience thought that this was year's game was cruel and, though not as bad as the fourteenth Hunger Game, painful to watch as the non-careers got unexpected invites to boot parities and got beaten up with hand to hand combat, the Capital audience thought that it was great entertainment. The fights were bloody, brutal, and fun for them to watch. They loved it.

It wasn't until day two that some of the non-careers decided to fight back.

Some tributes, like the District Eight boy, didn't even land a single hit on a career before the District Two girl shoved her thumbs into his eyes, causing them to explode, before the careers finished him off by stomping on his chest until his ribs shattered and pierced his heart. Others though, like the District Seven girl, managed to sneak up on the District Two boy, and bite him in the back of the neck, her teeth were so strong and sharp that when his district partner pulled the attacker off, she took part of his spine with her.

Both tributes died in seconds. The District Two male because of his missing spine, the District Seven female because the careers were mad at her for sneaking up on them and killing one of their own. The District Seven only wanted to take down one career, but she got a bonus from that, she got her neck snapped by the District Two girl, a quick and painless death.

Days went by, and the non-careers suffered defeat after defeat by the careers as they meet their painful ends by the fists and boots of the careers. The plastic that the careers used had long been destroyed by resistant victims, and they found with the District Eleven boy that choking someone with clumps of dirt was too hard and took too long for their liking, so they stopped using that method and continued to just use their hands and feet to kill the non-careers.

When the last non-career died, the careers didn't hesitate to turn on each other.

The fighting went on for several minutes as careers fought each other for dominance, until there was only Razor, and the District Two female.

The female warrior excelled at hand to hand combat and was tough, but Razor was too over whelming in terms of power and endurance.

While the girl was on the ground, Razor lifted up his boot and was about to crush her skull, until she rolled out of the way, sprang up to her feet, and jumped up to Razor's throat and sank her teeth into his throat.

Razor, on pure instinct, pulled her away from his throat, causing her to rip out his adam's apple. Razor died in seconds as he drowned in his own blood.

While Razor had many Capital supporters, Enobaria Vice had even more supporters that wished for her to win. A career, tough, and good looking, Enobaria was the most popular tribute to ever be in the games for many reasons.

"I now give you the winner of the sixty second annual Hunger Games!" The announcer shouted to the world. "Enobaria Vice!"

Enobaria cried out into the air in triumph. Her dream had become a reality.

But Enobaria soon realized why so many people wanted her to win, and that it wasn't in her best benefit to deny their wishes.

She tried to scare them off peacefully by sharpening her teeth, to remind them that she was a vicious shark that could easily kill again. But her sharpened teeth only made the Capital love her even more.

Nobody in the Capital was afraid of her, because they knew that even wild sharks could be tamed.

**Winner: Seventeen year old Enobaria Vice of District Two.**

* * *

**A/N: Good gravy, now I'm adding author's notes. Ok, I just have to say that, I feel as if I didn't do Enobaria's part justice, sorry to say. What do you guys think? And I have a feeling that the last three chapters are going to be longer then I first intended them to be.**


	13. Frozen

**The frozen wasteland**

**Code name: Frozen**

**Audience satisfaction: Very low**

**Classification level: All eyes welcome**

The wildly successful sixty second Hunger Games made the head gamemaker of that year seem like a genius. Enobaria was the most popular tribute in the game's history, and she was gaining more and more admirers by the day.

And though Enobaria hated bowing down to the Capital's every wish, she knew the consequences if she didn't. Her mentors, Brutus and Lyme told both her and her partner not to become too popular in the games. She didn't understand it at the time, and she didn't pay much attention to their advice. Enobaria was confident that she wouldn't attract too much attention. She wasn't bad looking, but she was the worst looking girl in the career pack. She fought, but all the careers did that. She strong and good at hand to hand combat, she gorged eyes out and beat other kids up in the arena, but the other careers did the same thing. No, she had been confident that she wouldn't attract too much attention.

How wrong she was, because she was a career and from District Two, she already had a good number of people betting on her. Her brutal hand to hand gained the attention of more people when she was in the arena. Plus, other guys were attracted to her because of her bad girl attitude. And in the Capital, her shark teeth only made her more popular because cosmetic surgery was the in thing to do.

Enobaria had done what needed to be done to survive, but she had done it too well, and she was now the center of the attention on the Capital. She was glad to be a victor, but wasn't pleased to be a Capital play toy to the many males and females that desired her.

She found a new meaning in the name that the non-careers and even the other career districts had called the people in her home district. Capital lap dogs.

While Enobaria was dreaming about somehow getting rid of the head gamemaker for making the arena that made her so popular, the head gamemaker was dreaming up of another arena.

He had thought of it years ago, and since he was popular, he decided to give it a try.

The new tributes were picked, taken to the Capital by train, shown to the Capital by chariot, then taken to the training area to learn weapon and survival techniques.

As always, the careers ignored the survival stations and focused on the weapon stations and intimidated the non-careers with their skills while some of the non-careers held a weapon for the first time in their lives.

The careers laughed at the non-career tributes at the weapon stations, the combat stations, and a little at the obstacle stations, because some tributes, like the little District Eleven boy, did better at it then they did. It pissed off the careers, and the non-careers took their small victory like a trophy and laughed at the bigger, older, and more weapon skilled careers for getting beaten by a skinny kid of fourteen years old on an obstacle course.

Tension built in the training center as the careers continued to intimidate the non-careers. While it worked most of the time, the non-careers used their knowledge of food and other abilities to work up the careers tempers.

The non-careers, though they weren't going to be allies in the arena, were working as a team to piss the careers off, and having fun with it.

One survival group, one weapons group. Both were having a go at each other through abilities unknown to the other.

The gamemakers were worried that the non-careers were going to get together, like the tributes in the ninth Hunger Games. It was ok back then, when the districts still had a sense of togetherness. But now, the Capital wanted to districts to have a sense of separation, that they were divided and that they couldn't help each other, that they were all enemies. Because even the careers, despite them working together in the arena, still turned on each other in the end.

The tributes went into their interviews like normal, the playing around with each other seemed to disappear, until the District Three girl said to the volunteers of Districts One and Two, "watch how a survivor gains sponsors you brainless brutes." As the District Three girl made her way to the interviewer, snickers from the non-careers rippled down the line as the careers grinded their teeth in anger.

When the District Four girl's turn came, she said to the non-careers,

"Watch how winners get sponsors." Ohhs came out of the careers mouths as the non-careers growled in frustration.

By the time the interviews were done, the gamemakers were surprised that the tributes hadn't fought each other due to all the insults flying back and forth between the careers and non-careers.

When the tributes went back to their rooms, they all wanted to smash everything in front of them. But instead, they all laughed. They laughed at the insults that they threw, and the insults that they received. They laughed at how serious both sides were, and somehow, they felt like they had been fighting among friends.

Even though they were all enemies, they couldn't help but think of them as long lost friends that they'd have to kill.

Very long lost friends that they'd have no problem stabbing in the back.

The day of the games came and all the tributes got ready for the arena, but not before throwing out some last minute insults.

The tributes went up to the arena, and discovered an arena that was a cruel and horrific as the games themselves.

The tributes just stoor at the frozen wasteland around them in disbelief and horror, but quickly started to shiver and wrap their arms around their bodies as the cold chill quickly bit at their skin.

Their long sleeved shirts, pants, and thin jackets did little to protect them from the howling wind and bits of hard snow and ice that blew mercilessly on their bodies. For once, the tributes weren't thinking about weapons, or survival supplies, they were thinking solely about clothes. Even the careers abandoned the idea of weapons in exchange for a backpack the hopefully contained a thick jacket that would protect their bodies from the ice, snow, and wind.

The audience was just as horrified as the tributes. The districts because they could see that it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience for the tributes, the weather where they were was worse then ninety nine percent of the winters they normally experience, and the other one percent might of not even been as bad as the arena the tributes were in. The Capital was horrified because they thought that it was just going to be a quick game, because they thought that the tributes would kill each other quickly so that they could get out of the arena.

Inside the arena, the tributes tried to see the supplies around the golden horn, but they couldn't see anything. They couldn't see the cornucopia, they couldn't see the supplies that were laid around it, they couldn't see anything that was camouflaged in the thick blizzard in front of them.

"Fuck this!" The District Eleven girl shouted before she jumped off her launch plate, and landed on the land mines. The sound of explosions mixed in with the raging winds as bits of the District Eleven girl scattered across the area she had been at. Blood and guts and body parts landed on the snow covered land before they quickly started to get covered up in snow.

The tributes looked at her, and felt that she was both smart and stupid. Stupid because she killed herself, but smart because she did. She wouldn't have to suffer in the ice kingdom anymore.

Those that grew up in a hot area of the country knew exactly how she felt, as they felt almost the same way.

After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, the gong, silent as it was due to the wind and shivering bodies of the tributes, rang out in the arena, and the tributes dashed for the supplies in front of them.

With no idea on where the supplies were, the tributes had to rely on the sense of touch and sound to find anything. Steel toed bots crunched the snow beneath them while hands felt around for anything other then icy snow.

The tributes ignored each other completely as they searched for supplies. They weren't thinking straight, they just wanted warm clothing. When the found something that wasn't clothing, they tossed it away like it was a distraction to them, even the District Four male who found his signature weapon dropped it in order to search for clothing.

As soon as someone found a jacket, or a pair of winter pants, or even just a pair of gloves, a balaclava, or a thin sleeping bag that looked like it was thinner then cardboard, they ran away with their prize and didn't look back.

The careers managed to find some winter clothing before they grabbed some weapons and started to kill the non-careers near their base.

Some non-careers didn't find any supplies before the careers started to attack them, and were forced to flee with little equipment if any. Others were luckier, they had found something useful before running away. Others weren't so lucky as the careers killed them with their metal weapons.

Seven non-careers died in the bloodbath, but the blood that year was forgotten quickly in the arena due to the cold weather and the fact that it was being covered up by ice and snow.

The careers looted the bodies of the dead and took their clothes, they needed it more then they did. But even that wasn't enough. Even with their winter jackets and snow pants and gloves and snow masks, they were snow equipment in name only. The items offered little protection and weren't very warm. The careers knew that it would buy them a little time, but not much. It would keep them warm, but not much.

The non-careers found that out the hard way. Their spoils of war were just like the careers, worthy of only the most basic level winter, and the blizzard they were facing was many magnitudes worse then a bad winter.

It seemed like, all the voices in the arena, screamed out in a mix of anger, frustration, sadness, and fear as they realized that they were in for the worst days imaginable.

The tributes did whatever they needed to do to keep warm. Some tributes had a so called winter jacket, a pair of so called snow pants with them, or a pair of gloves or a face mask, which helped a little, but not by much. Some only had a paper thin sleeping bag, and little help that did as those couple tributes hid from the worst of the blizzard and kept them dry at least. Until the ice outside the sleeping bag started to melt due to the tribute's body heat and the sleeping bag became soaking wet.

But all of the tributes, despite what equipment they had, kept on moving. They moved their arms and legs and head to keep the blood flowing in their bodies.

The careers did that by running through the winter wonderland in search for victims while the non-careers either ran, walked, or just simply moved towards an unknown location. All they cared about was moving around.

The day went by, and the careers found themselves in a tricky situation, in their rush to start moving around and find the non-careers early, they forgot to bring a compass, so they were lost, and they couldn't see anything beyond six feet in front of them.

The non-careers had the same problem as them, but they had less clothing then they did, and some of them didn't have weapons either.

Both sides were tired, and the sun seemed to disappear as quickly as if it were trying to hide from the tributes.

The tributes then faced an even worse winter as a dark sky appeared and the temperatures dropped well below tributes then made shelter with what they had, if they had anything. They placed their arms in their jackets or shirt, or curled up tightly in their sleeping bag. The careers huddled together to keep warm and preserve what body heat they had. Not bringing a tent or sleeping bag made them exposed to the elements, just like most of the non-careers.

The tributes suffered through the night, even the ones with jackets and other clothes and equipment. The ones that had nothing with them except the clothes that had been provided with them suffered the worst of the cold that night.

They shivered and shivered, feeling their temperature drop as they rubbed their hands over their bodies to keep parts of their body warm. But it only delayed what they knew was coming for them. The tributes with no spare clothes felt the pins and needles in their limbs and felt their exposed nails expanding in their flesh as well as the frostbite and hypothermia getting to them. Icy snow hit their clothes, soaking them before they made their way to their flesh, making the night even colder.

It hurt them just to move, but they couldn't help it, they wanted to stay warm, they wanted to live, so they kept on moving, hurting themselves, until they fell asleep and passed away.

Five non-careers died that night, and every tribute that was alive didn't hear the cannons over their suffering and the howl of the wind around them.

Nobody slept, nobody wanted to sleep. They felt that if they fell asleep, they die.

When morning came, the only tributes that managed to get some decent sleep were the ones in the sleeping bags, and that wasn't many. The rest only got the briefist blinks of sleep before they woke themselves up.

The night felt like it lasted forever, and it might of well of been, because the night had lasted twenty one hours before the sun raised over the horizon.

The tributes welcomed the sun and the tiniest bit of warmth it gave. The arena's temperature only rose a tiny fraction, but the tributes didn't care, they were glad to just see the sun.

They were happy to see the sun, until they looked at their skin, which had spots of black and dark blue on them. Tributes screamed out in fright as they saw the spots on them. Some had bigger spots then others, but there was a cold burn where the spots were.

The District One male, who had held his spear all night long, let go of it, only to realize that he couldn't. He looked down, to see that his flesh had fused with the cold metal he was holding. He to screamed in terror.

His allies turned towards him as he reached with his left hand, and forced his right hand to let go of the spear, only to see thick pieces of bloody flesh rip off the palm of his hand.

The pain was numbed by the cold, but he could still feel the burning pain that came with ripped flesh as he, and his allies, screamed out in terror.

The District One male dropped his spear to the ground like it was the most dangerous thing in the world before dropping his right palm onto the cold snow to numb the agony in his hand.

The other careers screamed out into the sunrise as they dumped their weapons into the snow and kicked them as far away from them as possible. After seeing what the weapons did to their ally, they didn't even want to hold them anymore.

The District One male held his palm on the snow until the worst of the pain stopped, then him and his allies walked blindly around the frozen wasteland in search for victims that needed to be killed. They left their weapons behind, and didn't care.

The non-careers did what they could to keep themselves warm, wither it was walking, running, or jumping in place, they did something.

Some tributes tried to look for food, but in the winter wasteland, there was nothing alive out there except those who wanted you to be dead.

It wasn't long before the sun set again, only three hours of daylight and the tributes had to stop for the night.

Nobody could make a fire with the blizzard going on, so they could do little more then what they had done the night before.

By the time the sun rose, the career pack found that the District One male wasn't moving. He was half covered with snow, so the careers had to whip away the snow from him in order to see that he had bit his own tongue off and died of blood loss.

The careers noticed that his bones in his right palm was showing, and without blood to cover up the ripped up flesh and bones, the damage only looked worse. His left palm also had skin torn off of it, and the careers thought that it was from him rubbing his palms together too hard and fast.

The careers took his clothes before they began to walk again.

Another three hour day passed, and the tributes were forced to stop again.

Another three non-careers died that night. Hypothermia. The black and dark blue spots on their bodies had grown bigger and thicker as the nights went by. While two of the victims that night died from the cold and not experienced much other then pain and coldness, the other dead victim, the District Ten boy, was so frost bitten that several of his fingers broke off his hand. The cold was that bad. He lost four of his fingers before the night killed him.

Seven tributes remained in the icy world of the arena, and they wondered how much longer they were going to be in the frozen arena.

The fourth day arrived, and the careers were hungry. They all didn't sleep that night, so they killed the first person that did fall asleep in the middle of the day. They waited and waited, until the District Two boy fell asleep.

Then all at once, the careers that were awake agreed that he needed to die.

The District One girl tried to copy what Enobaria had done the year before, but when she bit into the District Two boy's throat, her teeth hurt so much that she pulled them away and screamed in pain. Even something as soft as the hard part of a human's neck flesh hurt beyond imagination.

The sacrificial victim felt the teeth, woke up, then tried to run away. But the hungry careers caught up to him and beat him up with their hands and fists. It hurt both the attacks and the defender as they were all frostbitten in various parts of their bodies, but the attackers almost didn't care, they just wanted food.

The District Two boy did fight back, breaking whole, partly frozen fingers off of hands, ripping off partly frozen nails, sending severe waves of pain down his former allies bodies as he struck frost bitten parts of the body. But in the end, he fell to those he had teamed up with.

When he died, the careers attacked his body and started to eat at his flesh.

Lucky for them, the cameras couldn't pick up on anything they were doing as the blizzard only showed them as dark blobs moving about. The audience, Capital and district alike, had no idea that they were breaking one of the 'rules' of the Hunger Games.

It hurt the careers to eat the District Two boy, their teeth were weakened by the freezing weather and it hurt to move their hands in certain positions, but the warmth of blood and human flesh was welcomed by the careers.

They ate everything and left his with only facial skin and bones. They had eaten almost everything, even his eyes.

The remaining careers finished their meal before going on to search for other tributes.

They found none, though if they had arrived to their resting spot several hours earlier, they would of found the District Seven girl inside a paper thin sleeping bag.

The sleeping bag was gone, taken away by a hovercraft along with the body after she had died while sleeping.

The careers were sleep deprived, and thought that if they were going to die while sleeping, they were going to die peacefully. But as the careers tried close their eyes and fall asleep, they found that they couldn't even do that. The careers had found out that their eyes lids were frozen. The careers could close them, in fact, they had been frozen open for hours, but the careers hadn't noticed.

The District Two girl tried to force her eyes closed by grabbing the top of her eye lids and pulling them down, but she only succeeded in ripping her eye lids off, sending a wave of fire to the top of her eyes.

As she screamed in pain, her allies, the tough, cold hearted, so called monsters of Panem, started to cry. Well, they would of cried if their eyes would allow them to, but their tears didn't even make it to their eyes. They were so cold that they couldn't even produce tears anymore. But the sound of their, sad, mentally painful wailing, was enough to tell you that they were crying, or at least trying to.

The careers looked at their dark, blotted blisters that were on their hands and arms and sobbed harder as they thought of the big, dark frostbites that were also on their legs, on the feet, on their chest, and on their faces. They looked at each other to see that their eyes were in a state of permanent openness and that their were large dark spots on their faces. Some of them looked like they were filled with air, some of them were even cracked, some of them were open to show that the skin was peeling off of them in large chunks with hardened blood all over the open wounds. The careers cried some more.

Elsewhere in the arena, the two non-careers had the same problems as the careers. Frost bites that blistered and bloated, cracking dead skin, eyes frozen open. They were sobbing as well.

The Capital didn't like the game they were seeing solely because there was little action. They didn't seem to care about the tributes inside, they just wanted entertainment value.

The districts on the other hand, hated this year's game because of what the tributes were going through. Seeing them like that made them feel sick in more ways then one. The parents especially, seeing their kids in the isolated kingdom of ice, freezing to death, sobbing like the kids they were, and suffering a fate so cruel that could of been a fate worse then death.

The parents of the District Five boy cried even louder as they saw five of his teeth fall out of his mouth when he accidentally slammed his chin onto his knee, and his cries only made his parents cry more.

The gamemakers, knowing that the Capital audience wasn't liking the arena, decided to end it then and there by releasing the mutts.

The mutts were released, and the mutts ran out into the blizzard, before quickly returning back into the tubes they had ran out of.

The gamemakers were shocked. They tried to send out the mutts again, but the mutts refused to go out. Turns out that the engineers forgot to make them resistant to the cold. But that was only because the games were changed to a frozen wasteland a few months before the arena opened. The engineers simply didn't have time to create mutts resistant to the extreme cold in that amount of time.

The gamemakers then tried to kill the tributes with lightning, but they kept on missing. The trackers on the tributes gave an approximate area of where the tributes were, but it wasn't one hundred percent accurate, and the blizzard was making them shot blindly into the snow covered arena. And the blizzard maker machine would run for another week on it's own, it wouldn't shut down until then.

There were no mountains for avalanches, so they sent in fireballs. The problem was, the fire got snuffed out before it even hit the ground. The gamemakers were only sending out medium sized balls of tightly bond bales of hay at the tributes.

The tributes were excited for the gift of fire, only for it to get extinguished and got large bales of hay instead, but they were still extremely happy for the gift. In fact, the District Four female shouted

"There is a God!" When she saw the bales of hay that landed near them.

The gamemakers then used their last resort, manually activated land mines scattered all over the arena.

Those didn't work either, because the snow was so thick, that the most the land mines did was toss tributes into the air about two feet up before making them land back onto the snow. It hurt the tributes a lot due to their frostbites and other body injures, but it didn't kill them.

The horror dawned upon the gamemakers. The arena was too well crafted.

Day five arrived and the tributes pain only got worse as their frostbites continued to cause them pain and suffering. Blisters swelled up, more skin broke, fingers and toes were being unwillingly broken, and the tributes couldn't even close their eyes to escape the horrors of the arena.

The careers didn't move for the three hours of daylight, they just sat by each other in loose bales of hay, and told each other that they wanted to die, but they didn't want to leave their friends and family either.

The non-careers, alone in the frozen arena, thought of their family and friends and good times that they had back home and all the good times that they'd have when they came back.

Day six of the arena arrived and the careers went out in search for non-career tributes.

The careers didn't find anything until nearly sunset, when the saw the District Five male standing still, looking at something up ahead.

The careers, slowly walked up to him, and stopped when they were almost shoulder to shoulder with him. They were too tired and too weak and too depressed to attack him. They wondered if they'd ever attack him in the state they were in.

"What are you looking at?" The District One girl said with a voice unlike her own. Her voice was cracked and weak.

"I'm looking at the edge of the arena." The District Five boy said with a voice that almost didn't sound human.

The non-career turned toward to the once beautiful District One girl and said to her. "You look like shit."

"Like you should talk." The career spat back.

The careers looked horrific with their bloated black frostbites and peeling skin and dried blood and missing facial skin and missing fingers. But the District Five boy looked worse then them by a long shot. He had what they had and more. Bigger frostbites, less outer skin on him, fingers and lips hanging by threads of skin that were frozen so that they didn't sway in the wind. Missing teeth and glass like eyes. He was more then horrific looking.

The non-career tried to smile, but failed, before looking back to the barrier that the snow bounced off of.

"I'm glad that I got to see someone," he said as he stoor at the invisible barrier. "Got to talk to someone before I died, even if it was you guys." The non-career sighed painfully before saying. "Thanks for being here." The District Five boy then took a single step forward before his body shot back like a rocket before his dead body hit the snow with a sizzling like sound.

The careers stoor at his body, before the District One girl, the District Two girl, and the District Four girl, ran towards the barrier, and got zapped back by an invisible force before their bodies made sizzling like sounds as well.

The District Four boy looked at his allies bodies, and felt sadness as he thought of this arena and what they had done to them. Suicide did seem like the best option after what the six days of torture had done to them.

The career looked at the invisible barrier, and thought about following in their footsteps, but decided against it. He turned her back on the barrier, and walked over this his former allies before taking their shirts off. But he didn't do it to loot them. Instead, he took their shirts and tied them around their head, around their eyes, so that they wouldn't have to look at this arena for another second. He also did it out of respect for the dead, something he hadn't done before in his short time in the arena.

He thought back to those bloodbath victims and how they didn't even give them a second glance. He thought of Royce and how they left him after he committed suicide. He thought of Dante and how they ate him and didn't even give him a second thought until just now.

The District Four male, felt sick to his core. He felt like a complete monster that wasn't worthy of redemption. But needed to win, for his family. For his friends. And if for nothing else, for himself.

On the other side of the arena, the District Six girl was wondering if she should kill herself or not. She had suffered more the anyone else in the arena. With all her frostbites and missing skin and missing body parts and missing facial skin and missing eye lids, she looked like a monster that was worse then anything imaginable. She was in so much pain that it hurt her to do anything. In fact, it even hurt her to do nothing. Everything she did brought pain to her. The wind and snow and cold only brought her more pain. She tried to cry, only to feel the burning pain of tears that couldn't leave the area behind her eye sockets.

She had a reason to win. She had a child who was one month old. She had a lover back home. She had a family of her own. She needed to get back, and for that reason alone, she wasn't going to bite her tongue off.

She placed her hands, stripped of outer skin and nails, under her frostbitten armpits, and braced herself for the night.

Hours later, a cannon boomed out of in the arena, but the winner of the sixty third Hunger Games didn't hear it as they slept through it.

The audience on both sides cheered happily as the horrific games had ended. The Capital because it had low entertainment value, the districts because they couldn't stand seeing the tributes suffering in the frozen wasteland, where suicide was committed by one fourth of the tributes because they saw it as a better opportunity then living.

The districts, could feel, or at least, imagine their pain. The Capital on the other hand, couldn't imagine the tributes pain in there because they simply didn't very much care about their suffering. They selfishly thought of the games and valued the entertainment of it above all. The Capital kids, who didn't know any better, called those who committed suicide cowards while the districts called them brave. In fact, the districts called all the tributes brave for facing the arena that way they did. They faced the arena their own way. Those who committed suicide, those who died, the one that won, they were all brave.

When the victor awoke days later, he felt as right as rain, but at the same time, his body felt alien to him. He looked at himself in the mirror, and saw that he had been fixed to perfection. Everything about him was modified to look like his normal self, only better.

Injuries that he got back home were gone. Injuries he got in the arena was gone. In fact, he thought he looked too perfect.

The victor didn't think about it too much until he learned that everything his real body had lost in the arena was replaced by fake skin and bones. His facial skin, his chest skin, all the skin on his upper body, legs, and feet were fake as they replaced them with artificial skin. And even some parts of his body, such as some of his fingers, finger nails, toes, toe nails, both his ears, both his eye lids, his lips, his nose, most of his teeth, and his eyes were artificial.

He now knew the reason his body felt alien to him, because most of it wasn't really him, just something the Capital had put together for him. But not really for him, for them, for the Capital. They didn't care about who he was, just how he looked, just that he was a victor.

The teenage boy began to cry, but because of his fake eyes and facial skin, it didn't feel like he was crying at all. It didn't feel real, which only made him feel sadder.

"Of course it doesn't feel real," Kale told himself as he looked at himself in the mirror. A perfect image of himself that shouldn't look nearly that good. "It's not real. Fake eyes, fake eye lids, they can't cry."

Kale didn't think that he'd ever miss something as simple and human as crying so much as he tried to force himself to cry, but couldn't. "The Capital doesn't want to see cry baby victors," Kale laughed angrily to himself. "They want to see perfect, outstanding, strong willed, strong bodied, young, attractable, people. Of which some of us might of thought we were before the games. But aren't anymore. Not. Any. More."

It was that moment that Kale wished that he could cry one last time. He would of gave up his fame, his glory, gave all his money and possessions to his family, and give up his status as a District Four victor, and move to the poorest section of District Eleven, or even District Twelve, and live there for the rest of his life if he could cry for real one last time.

It was that moment that Kale Riverway, learned that Hell wasn't a fire bound world of brimstone, but a frozen wasteland of ice. And below Hell, was where the tributes of the arena died, and victors started their journey. Those that die in the arena were the lucky ones, those that survived the arena were the losers, because the Capital always won.

Kale did get one happy bit of news when he meet the previous year's victor. From that girl, he learned that the head gamemaker that made his arena was dead.

Kale looked at her sharp pointed teeth smile, and saw that she felt the same way he did.

All Kale did was smile back and say. "Good."

**Winner: Eighteen year old Kale Riverway of District Four.**

* * *

**A/N: Fuck my 2000 word limit, it worked for the previous chapters, but I doubt that this chapter and the chapters after this will work with the 2K word limit. I really felt as if this chapter needed to be more then 2K long. I hope you guys liked it, I've always had an obsession over the frozen arena when it was first mentioned in the book, and, here's a short summery of what I mostly thought of it. Oh God, the final two chapters. Those ones are going to take a while.**


End file.
